Fantaisie Impromptu
by Raaya57
Summary: Hermione and Minerva have become closer after the Battle of Hogwarts. When they find themselves spending more time together and bonding over a shared love of music, will they manage to overcome their separate fears and insecurities to connect on a deeper level? A brief look into a romantic HG/MM pairing. Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I am **so** aware that I should really be working on my other stories, but I promise that this is a short one. A longer one-shot if you will, and like the other stories... it's an AU of all my other AU's in which we receive a glimpse to answer the eternal HG/MM "what if?"_

 _J.K. Rowling owns everything in this story. I'm just here to imagine. :)_

Enjoy!

* * *

 _"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…"_

Hermione Granger sat curled on a loveseat beneath a window, a gentle breeze playing lightly with the collar of her white sleeveless blouse.

The summer of '98 was proving to be unseasonably hot and even though she had retreated to the cooler recesses of the library, Hermione was still sweating lightly as she tried not to let her eyes succumb to the soporific combination of heat and the soothing words of Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

Inhaling deeply, Hermione smiled… pleased by the enrapturing scents of freshly mown grass, heather, and sun-drenched wildflowers drifting in from a crack in the window. It was growing later in the summer and for the first time since the end of the War, she finally felt as though she could actually _relax._ The bees hummed quietly just outside the diamond panes of glass and at glancing to the side, Hermione's gaze was met by the soft watercolor of brilliant greens and blue sky of the rolling Highland meadows.

Though part of her was eager to get out and explore the grounds of the McGonagall Manse, she was surprised by how content she was to simply enjoy the ambiance of the old house. Chuckling lightly, Hermione shook her head and realized that it was the most content she had felt since long before the War… and how ironic that it would at her former professor's childhood home. Had someone told her she would be recovering from the Final Battle at the formidable Headmistress of Hogwart's private Manse, Hermione would have scoffed and rolled her eyes.

 _How much things have changed…_

A soft noise caused her to lift her chin slightly, her eyes widening in surprise as a thin elegant arm passed into her field of vision bearing a tall glass of lemonade. The long fingertips left small dainty prints on the chilled glass and Hermione smiled up into the serene features of Minerva McGonagall herself.

"Thank you, Professor," she replied automatically, taking a grateful sip. The cool liquid spilled down her throat, flooding her tastebuds with the sharp bite of lemon mixed with a hint of sugar and the subtle aftertaste of rosemary. _Delicious._ With her eyes trained upon neat rows of poetry before her, Hermione almost missed the split-second pause as the elegant woman began to turn away.

"I'm sorry. Thank you, _Minerva,_ " she amended guiltily, lifting her focus to see the woman in question turn back with a small half smile. In the noon shadows of the library, the sculpted features were limned in shades of soft blue and Hermione couldn't help but notice how lovely the woman appeared in her simple Muggle clothes.

Inwardly, she cursed. They were going on their third day at the Manse together and she still kept flubbing the name.

 _The one name you've only waited seven years to say..._

"It's quite all right. I realize it will take a bit of time to get used to," the witch replied softly, her beautiful features softening as she quietly plucked a thin book off a shelf and moved to turn away. Likely she would retreat back to her private study for the remainder of the afternoon until it cooled off somewhat. Then perhaps they would go for a walk around the grounds at twilight.

"Yes, though I much prefer 'Minerva'..." Hermione murmured quietly, tucking her feet beneath her as she returned to her book. "It's the most beautiful name I've ever heard."

She gave a small sigh and returned to her book, oblivious to the quiet shock pulsing through the woman on the other side of the room.

 _"I love thee with a passion put to use...  
_ _In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith."_

* * *

Frozen near the bookshelf, Minerva literally stopped and turned to gaze at the younger witch before the window. The bright sunshine was streaming in through the arched window behind her, causing the messy pile of curls atop the young woman's head to glow nearly white in the direct exposure.

She waited, somehow imagining that the witch would chuckle after her quiet comment. But she didn't. The pale skin between dark, swept eyebrows puckered slightly and full lips began mouthing words as the amber eyes drank in the words on the page… and a moment later, Hermione was back to reading, oblivious to the brief stutter she had incited in Minerva's unflappable calm.

Minerva found herself quietly backpedaling, moving out of the library with quiet assuredness even as she puzzled over the unexpected comment upon her name.

 _It was a simple compliment… nothing more._

Shaking her head, Minerva moved quietly through the familiar halls, lingering toward the shadows where the air was a bit cooler. Though she didn't regret inviting Hermione to the Manse, she didn't feel comfortable changing into the thin under robes that she would have preferred given the stifling weather. They were much too casual and she was only still recovering from her own surprise that the young witch had even accepted her invitation.

Sighing, Minerva tucked her book under one arm and unbuttoned the cuffs of her white oxford shirt as she began ascending the oak staircase toward her study. Even the well-worn wood seemed too hot to protest and the typically loud squeaks and groans were little more than feeble murmurs in the silent house.

"Bloody weather," she mumbled, shifting her hands to unbutton her collar. Though she detested the cold, the heat was almost worse - Minerva felt flushed and feverish and likely as lethargic as Hermione had looked. She frowned down at the front of her chest. Could she unbutton three? Perhaps that was a bit too much.

Leaving the collar slightly open, Minerva sighed as her fingers rubbed the back of her neck, loosening a few of the hairpins that were digging into her skull. It was much too warm to let her hair down, though in the confines of her personal study, she considered letting the heavy weight rest in a long braid. Yes, that was a compromise she could live with. Besides, she doubted that Hermione would pay much attention - she hadn't commented upon her lack of robes and Minerva took that as a positive sign that the younger witch was finally beginning to relax.

The windows at the top of the stairs were cracked slightly and Minerva waved them shut, loathe to let in any more of the sweltering heat. Below, the green expanse of the grounds looked rather parched and Minerva stood at the window for a moment, at once acutely aware of how unchanged her childhood stomping grounds appeared… she could have been seven, seventeen, or thirty-seven and the picturesque sight would have been the same.

The only discernible difference were her own feelings, rumbling disconcertingly beneath her serene exterior.

 _Hermione._

The witch was still far too thin.

Though the young woman's youthful glow had returned somewhat in the past several weeks, her cheeks had long since lost the roundness of childhood and her body remained far too lean for Minerva's liking. Those months on the run had taken their toll and Minerva had been shocked when she had first glimpsed Hermione in the corridors of Hogwarts in the maelstrom before the Final Battle. The witch had looked little better than a skeleton and it was one of the first obvious clues that spoke to the trio's arduous journey that had led them so far from home.

Following the earliest repairs to Hogwarts, Minerva had been pleased when the witch had begun taking her meals in the Great Hall with the rest of the volunteers, though she had noted how little the woman seemed to eat.

She had started by pressing Hermione into sharing dinner in her office several nights a week - insisting that the witch clean her plate before they delved into more casual conversations that had nothing to do with the repair work, volunteer efforts, or endless to-do lists that seemed to grow longer with each successive day after the Final Battle. After awhile the gesture had become a tradition and Minerva had to admit it was one she had quickly grown to appreciate.

Hermione had been an invaluable help in those first tenuous weeks after Voldemort's defeat. Minerva had been rather surprised by the young woman's insistence in helping, though as the weeks had unfolded she had quickly realized that the young woman had been using the work as an escape form of therapy to recover from the War. Though she remained alert and distantly concerned, Minerva couldn't begrudge her that…

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had seemed to follow suit and Minerva had been pleased to see the trio of friends out and about in the castle, assisting her colleagues with the repairs, and occasionally laughing with one another in the simplistic way she remembered from their years at Hogwarts.

Minerva pressed a palm to the cool glass of the window before her, reveling in the momentary respite from the heat before she continued to her study - lifting her fingers to the exposed skin of her neck to offer some of the cooler temperature to her own body.

The simple white room at the top of the stairs seemed far too bright for her liking and Minerva quickly charmed the drapes to close out the glare of the midday sun. As the study slid into cooler shadows, she sighed - pulling out her hairpins in earnest and allowing the heavy curtain of hair spill over her shoulders.

Setting her book on the dark mahogany desk, Minerva paced a small circuit of the room, breathing in the familiar combination of old tomes, parchment, and a sweet musty smell specific to the study itself. It had been her father's at one point, a great many years ago… and despite herself, Minerva couldn't bear to transform the study into a room more suited to her own tastes.

Over the years, her own books began to replace the Muggle texts, though she had left one row untouched above the fireplace in the corner. Her eyes flickered over the familiar texts - books of hymns, philosophy, the history of the Kirk, and much older books in Hebrew and Latin that she couldn't read. The small offering to her father's memory was contained by two bookends she had given her mother a long time ago during her first few years at Hogwarts - two small marble lions, their white paws pressed against the old books in a stony demonstration of strength.

She settled on the small loveseat along the wall, her book of prose already forgotten.

Braiding her hair absently, Minerva attempted to pinpoint why she felt so restless.

The heat was cloying, yes… and her body was too warm to be comfortable, but rather than being able to settle in and curl up with a book as Hermione was doing, Minerva felt uncharacteristically jittery.

Filius' meddling had led her to this unexpected vacation and while understood his insistence rationally, she could help but feel out of her element. Why _had_ she invited Miss Granger - _Hermione_ \- to her childhood home?

There had been a number of surprised expressions when Minerva had let that slip, but it had been worth the few snatches of gossip after she had given Hermione a tour of the house and found the young witch's dark eyes shining in way that she hadn't glimpsed since long before the War.

 _Hermione deserves a break just as much as the rest of us,_ Minerva mused quietly, her fingers deftly tying off the end of the braid with practiced precision.

Assuredly, that had been her reasoning.

The young witch had no family left and neither did Minerva, really. It was one of the many similarities they had discovered during their late night conversations and while she had found her heart going out to the young witch, surprisingly Minerva was finding it harder and harder to look at Hermione through the lens of a former professor, or even mentor.

The woman was still young, yes... but she possessed a unique depth of soul that continually surprised Minerva. Hermione was wise beyond her years and it was clear that she was most definitely a _woman..._

Minerva shifted at her sudden turn of thought, brow wrinkling as she considered why that small fact seemed so critically important to her all of a sudden.

 _I suppose because I would never invite a former student to the Manse... but I **would** invite a close friend._

Yes.

Perhaps that was it.

Hermione had somehow managed to slide past the awkward and uncomfortable no-man's land that Minerva frequently found herself accessing whenever it came to interacting with former students. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were there now to some extent and Minerva bemusedly watched as they attempted to renegotiate their relationship to her with the sudden absence of Hogwarts and classes as frame to place her in.

But the young witch was different.

The adjustment to addressing her without a title was still in progress, though Minerva found that she suddenly had an aversion to Hermione calling her anything _but_ her given name.

They addressed each other with the familiar ease of equals and Minerva had been shocked on more than one occasion when Hermione had dared to argue against her - let alone argue _well_ , to both her delight and utter irritation. And unlike her friends, Hermione seemed to intuitively understand Minerva's need for clear distinctive lines between her public and private life. She was never offended whenever Minerva was brusque with her in the Great Hall or the presence of her colleagues. And she knew exactly how to slide into their comfortable teasing banter as soon as the doors to Minerva's office were securely closed.

Sniffing lightly, Minerva spread her arms across the back of the worn loveseat and took a deep breath.

Her friendship with Hermione was indeed unexpected... but as she felt her lips curl into a soft smile, Minerva couldn't help but feel that it was simply meant to be.

And it wasn't her place to question the inevitable.

* * *

Hermione stretched and yawned, suddenly having reached her limit of Victorian poetry for the day.

She rubbed the heel of one hand against one eye, biting back another yawn before flicking her wand and banishing the book of prose back to its original space. Leaning back, she peered out the window, noticing that the sun had deepened into a richer shade of gold, though the ambient temperature still seemed to be as uncomfortably hot as ever.

Hermione stretched her legs out, wishing for the umpteenth time that she had brought something in-between her jeans and jean shorts. She supposed that Minerva would probably have accepted the shorts in stride, though she had thus far refused to put them on for fear of upsetting the woman's sense of propriety.

 _Perhaps I'll ask her to help me transfigure them later…_ Hermione mused absently, reaching up to brush a stray curl out of her face. Whether it was the heat or having sat for too many hours in the same place, she suddenly found herself rather jittery.

Looking around the darkened library, Hermione sighed and realized that she truly had reached her reading limit for the time being. Her body itched to get up and do something else. Sniffing lightly, she could already imagine the teasing that Ron and Harry would have gotten into had they heard her admit such a concept out loud. _Hermione Granger fed up with reading?! Mark it on the calendar! It's a day for the history books, no doubt!_

Smiling to herself, Hermione sat forward, scrubbing her hands over her face as she considered what to do next. She pressed both hands together and rested her chin upon her thumbs as her eyes roamed over the space before her.

Part of her wanted to wander upstairs and see what Minerva was up to, however the upper floor of the Manse seemed to be the elder witch's domain and she didn't want to disturb Minerva from whatever it was that she was doing. The witch deserved a break and Hermione was loathe to draw her away from her precious personal time.

In fact, she was still a bit disbelieving that Minerva had even extended the invitation to her home at all.

Flopping back against the loveseat, Hermione twisted slightly to rest her head against a folded elbow as she gazed out the windows.

"It's too hot to go outside," she whispered to herself despairingly. _That leaves the Manse, I guess._

Sighing again, Hermione rose, fixing her wrinkled blouse and jeans with a swish of her wand.

It was a bit strange to have to consider her own appearance again after so many months of not caring, however a small part of her was glad that she was receiving the reminder from Minerva. While she knew that the older witch prided herself on her polished appearance, she never pressed those same expectations upon Hermione… rather, Hermione found herself aspiring to match the collected poise that Minerva seemed exude at all times.

In fact, there was an ease to their entire relationship that she never would have anticipated… and in the months following the Final Battle, Hermione had quickly become accustomed to the Minerva's steadfast presence - her unflappable calm, wickedly dry sense of humor, and the smooth manner in which she negotiated most aspects of her public life.

She had found herself impressed with Minerva's easy style of leadership as they had chipped away at the repairs to the castle… the witch seemed to command respect from everyone, and Hermione had grown used to the deferential way that others seemed to treat Minerva whenever she was within earshot. It was reassuring, yes… but _inspiring_ , and Hermione was surprised at how fulfilled she felt by being able to share in a measure of the process.

They had worked rather closely in the first several weeks after the Final Battle. Hermione had taken it upon herself to organize the ebb and flow of available volunteers while keeping a list of projects that required helping hands. Minerva had slowly begun to trust her with more and more responsibilities until it was understood by most everyone that if the Headmistress was unavailable, then Hermione was their next best option.

However, beyond the satisfaction she found in assisting at the castle, Hermione had found herself genuinely enjoying her one-on-one time with Minerva in a way that somehow vaulted past the confines of a professional friendship into a more nebulous realm that she still wasn't entirely sure how to define.

They had shared many private moments together during the reconstruction and Hermione had quickly learned that the witch was far more emotional than she let on to others…

Minerva could be incredibly petulant, passionate, and argumentative - all in ways that Hermione found rather engaging and endearing, and for the most part they seemed to compliment each other rather well.

They had held plenty of their own debates, of course - setting aside work and relief efforts to talk about contemporary theories in Transfiguration… but also breezing through Arithmancy, Potions, and even more obscure topics like Muggle politics, science, and history. Minerva was opinionated, though unexpectedly flexible whenever they delved into a realm with which she was not well-versed.

Hermione had been surprised on more than one occasion when the witch had deferred to her to provide explanation of unfamiliar topics - once asking after a recent development in nuclear physics and another time regarding a new branch of educational theory in America that sought to include more of the arts into daily classroom practices.

Minerva was insatiably curious about most topics, Hermione had discovered… and she had made it a secret past time to draw more and more obscure references into their chats, eager to hear the woman's thoughts… admittedly, if only to hear the pleasing Scottish brogue grow more and more pronounced as the witch allowed herself to unwind.

Hermione smiled to herself as she reminisced over several of their late night conversations, allowing her fingertips to trail along the spines of books as she meandered through the library. The ambient heat made her feel somewhat lethargic and for the moment she was content to remain inside her own thoughts.

Harry and Ron had simply shaken their heads whenever Hermione had tried to explain this other side of Minerva to them. Until they witnessed it she knew they would have difficulty seeing the witch as anything but the formidable Headmistress of Hogwarts, though they had taken her new friendship in stride.

Her fingers snagged on rather large tome that looked to be written in Gaelic, pausing as she recalled one conversation in particular that had reassured her that her friends had understood.

 _She, Harry, and Ron were sitting in the newly repaired Viaduct Courtyard, watching the sunset as they sipped on bottles of butterbeer that Aberforth had graciously brought to "assist" in the repair efforts. Hermione had giggled quietly at witnessing the thinly veiled expression of disapproval on Minerva's face, though the witch had merely raised an eyebrow when Hermione had been the first to step forward and pluck three bottles from the wooden cartons._

 _This had prompted their current conversation and Hermione was attempting to rationalize her new relationship with Minerva… slightly afraid that the boys were going to object to how she was spending the majority of her free time._

 _Harry was regarding her with a neutral expression, while Ron merely shrugged, taking a healthy swig of butterbeer before fixing her with a quizzical look._

 _"Well blimey, I reckon that neither of us can keep up with you half the time… it seems obvious that McG would become your friend now that you've graduated and all. I'm sure she needs a friend too... after Dumbledore, y'know…passed on," he said, twirling the glass bottle in his fingers absently._

 _Harry was nodding in agreement._

 _"You can be friends with whoever you want, Hermione. I hope you don't think you need our permission. I mean… I know how much McGonagall means to you. I'm just glad you've found someone who shares so many of your interests," he said, leaning back and resting his head against a stone pillar._

 _Harry's features were open and calm as he looked at her, while Ron's mouth twisted into his trademark crooked smile. Both of their faces were wreathed in the reddish glow of sunset and Hermione felt her eyes fill with tears as she was overcome with a swell of emotion._

 _Both Ron and Harry had grown so much in the last year… and after a short moment of warring with her emotions, Hermione lunged forward and enveloped the both of them in a fierce hug, even as they choked and spluttered on their drinks._

 _"Thank you guys... " she whispered, her voice suddenly thick. "It really means the world to me that you understand. I just didn't want you to think that I was planning to leave you behind."_

 _They pushed her away good naturedly and laughed._

 _"'Course not!"_

 _"We know that!"_

 _"Righ'... and anyway, no matter what you do with Ol' McG, that's **your** business," Ron said, waggling his eyebrows. He nudged Harry with an elbow and they both cracked up, clinking bottles cheerfully as Hermione immediately frowned._

 _"She is not old, Ron!" she admonished, whacking him upside the head as Harry chortled. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"_

 _Both boys made eye contact and dissolved into more laughter as Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes._

 _"Oh, honestly!"_

Hermione sniffed in amusement as she slowly drifted to peer up at a section devoted entirely to Transfiguration. While the library wasn't large by any means, it was clear that the McGonagalls had managed to use every nook and cranny to their advantage. Books lined three walls from floor-to-ceiling, even prompting the need for several ladders. There were two tall free-standing shelves in the middle of the room, and another low shelf of books beneath the bank of windows that boasted, surprisingly, an array of Muggle children's books.

Hermione let her fingertips trail along a few of the shelves as she drifted toward the open door. Beyond the library lay the main hallway, across from which was her own room, and further down the drawing room, kitchen, and formal dining and living rooms. While the Manse was quite old, it was not nearly as ostentatious as Hermione had initially imagined, and she found that she quite liked the blend of Muggle practicality and small touches of magical intervention interspersed here and there.

Both Harry and Ron had teased her mercilessly when Hermione had explained that turning down the invitation to The Burrow was nothing personal, but that she couldn't resist the opportunity to visit the mysterious McGonagall Manse.

All of the professors of Hogwarts were given a month and a half of paid vacation during the summer months, though largely everyone had given up a good portion of that time to remain at the castle and assist in the extensive repairs. Minerva had planned to stay there all summer, insisting that there was far too much work to be completed before the School could be reopened in time for the Fall Term.

Therefore, it had come as a surprise to everyone when her newly appointed Deputy, Professor Flitwick announced publicly in the Great Hall that Minerva would be on vacation for the last two weeks of July and unavailable to all. Hermione had to bite back a guffaw at the murderous expression that had graced Minerva's features, though it had instantly resolved itself when she had placed a gentle hand on the witch's knee beneath the High Table. It was a simple fact that Hermione always sat to Minerva's left at dinner.

To everyone's surprise, Minerva had merely lifted an eyebrow and given an affirmative nod. Only Hermione and Professor Flitwick knew that she had later threatened to hex him permanently if he ever tried such a stunt again. To Hermione's amusement and Minerva's dismay, the short Charms professor had simply chortled and waved a small hand, exclaiming that it would all be worth it if the Headmistress came back relaxed and refreshed. Before he had left her office, Flitwick had casually suggested that Minerva might want to bring Hermione along for company since she was clearly just as bad at taking time off.

The entire debacle had led to the rather unexpected set of circumstances that Hermione was still having a bit of difficulty believing were true. After a week of harrowing work in which nearly everyone had agreed that Minerva had become close to unbearable in her demands, Hermione had packed a few things into her beaded bag, grasped Minerva's elbow, and vanished from Hogwarts only to appear outside the wrought-iron gates of the Manse… the both of them sworn to a two-week vacation upon penalty of hexation if they returned early.

None of it had seemed real up until Hermione and Minerva had simply blinked at each other, suddenly absorbing the magnitude of their arrangement in a wave of awkward silence.

Not long after, Minerva had evolved into the consummate host - quickly giving Hermione a short tour of the entire house including free reign of the library, and simply indicating that mealtimes would be arranged on a day-to-day basis as they saw fit, though Hermione was of course free to help herself to anything she wished.

The first evening had been slightly awkward, though they had managed to regain their footing after dinner when Minerva had taken it upon herself to introduce Hermione to proper Scotch whisky ("There is no 'e', Hermione. Whiskey with an 'e' was invented by those with no taste"). There had been a lot of laughter on Hermione's part and a few chuckles on Minerva's… and suddenly, it seemed that everything would be all right.

Hermione drifted into the drawing room - pausing at the threshold as she momentarily appreciated the high ceilings and windows that were covered in slightly yellowed linen drapes. The walls were painted a pale periwinkle blue and she found herself smiling as she imagined the sconces lit and the room filled with people mingling before a dinner party.

She liked that the Manse felt somewhat lived in… it was old and dusty in places, but in a familiar way that felt nostalgic rather than empty. Hermione could almost imagine a young Minerva bounding across the hardwood hallways, her childhood brogue calling out happily as she lead her younger brothers onward to another adventure in the great green beyond.

The room seemed as though it hadn't been touched in quite some time. Hermione let her gaze meander across the walls aimlessly. A moment later, her brow furrowed as her eyes fell upon a familiar shape at the other end of the room beneath a large mirror that had been tilted to provide the illusion of more space.

 _How did you not notice it before?_

Hermione drifted across the room as if spellbound, moving carefully around the table in the center of the room, seemingly buoyed by an invisible current that pressed her forward.

Her fingers immediately reached out to brush along the smooth black finish, taking in the feeling of cool wood and how it immediately energized her fingertips. Her lips curled as she recognized the timeless name written in burnished gold.

"Steinway," she whispered.

A moment later, Hermione was moving around to prop the top board up. A wave of her wand cleared dust from the strings and hammers and she felt herself grin as a flood of memories began impressing themselves upon her thoughts.

Feeling a familiar heady wave of anticipation, her fingers reverently lifted the fallboard and she paused a moment… the black and ivory keys waiting quietly as Hermione carefully scooted the stool back, wincing slightly as the legs skidded against the floor.

She froze for a moment, a delicious thrill of fear and excitement pulsing through her.

Unbeknownst to the majority of her wizarding friends, Hermione had once been rather proficient at playing the piano. Her parents had forced her into lessons as a five-year old, insisting that she could quit as soon as she turned fifteen. She had even continued taking lessons for a few summers during her first three years at Hogwarts before life took over and her attentions had been forced elsewhere.

Hermione could remember every song that had ever been in her repertoire and suddenly she felt a strong desire to play… already flexing her hands in anticipation of the delicious sensation of creating music through artfully placed touch.

Biting her lip, she cast a nervous glance behind her and listened for a moment… trying to discern whether or not it would be an unwelcome activity in the now-silent house.

 _You are being ridiculous! Minerva would never be upset with you for playing a piano! She might even enjoy it…_

The last thought caused an even deeper swoop in the pit of her stomach and she took a deep breath, readjusting the stool slightly to provide a bit more leverage. The stern voice of her Russian teacher suddenly echoed in the corners of her mind and Hermione took another moment to peruse her hands carefully - another few charms quickly spelling her nails into a more proper arrangement. Nice and short leaving no room for clicking.

Hermione felt as though she were preparing for a momentous event as she lifted her sweaty fingers to the keys and carefully pressed down on the une corde pedal.

 _No sense in rattling the rafters._

A thought occurred and despite her anticipation, Hermione cast a _Muffliato._

A moment later she cringed as the dissonant sound of untuned keys reached her ears. Closing her eyes she mumbled a quick thank-you to the Founders for having thought to check.

 _Well, that was close!_

Immediately she frowned and withdrew her wand again. It took the better part of twenty minutes and a number of charms to re-tune the baby grand within respectable parameters, and by then Hermione realized that her fingers, hands, and arms were in desperate need of retraining.

While part of her knew she was being irrational at wanting to sound perfect from the get-go, another part was preoccupied with the thought of coaxing Minerva from wherever it was she had disappeared.

Since their arrival to the Manse, they had largely spent their time on their own aside from dinner when they reconvened to cook and share a meal. Minerva seemed to favor the upstairs part of the home - briefly, Hermione remembered seeing her bedroom and personal study, while Hermione had been happy to remain in the Library.

The previous night they had taken a short turn about the grounds after dinner, though the stifling weather had quickly proven to be a deterrent and Hermione had been relieved to return to the Manse and indulge in a cool bath.

Still… though only three days had passed since their arrival, she found that she was missing Minerva's presence and was rather eager to spend more time with the witch.

As she leaned into the familiar embrace of the piano keys, Hermione felt the familiar burn of her forearm muscles as her body began to recall its scales. She drilled herself with the unrelenting precision that Galina had demanded in her youth, and while her left hand was more sluggish than she remembered, Hermione was surprised at how remarkably invigorated she felt at hearing the bright tones and pleasant harmonies coalesce into a blanket of sound that seemed to soothe her soul.

She was also surprised to find that she was genuinely smiling.

First came an old favorite - the third movement of Beethoven's _Piano Sonata No. 17 in D-minor_. Her teeth clenched on the recapitulation of the theme, but the brief resolution into the major key still made her heart lift and Hermione was rather pleased at how swiftly her body compensated to add tone, quality, and volume.

 _It seems you haven't lost everything..._

By the time she breezed through the first movement of the ever-challenging "Pathétique," Hermione realized that she was ready for an audience. Provided she was willing, of course.

Unbuttoning the top few buttons of her blouse, she sighed heavily and waved her wand to unstick the light fabric from her body. She had forgotten how physical playing the piano could be.

Wetting her lips slightly and she turned to face the empty threshold. From the slant of light in the hallway, Hermione guessed that it was nearing three or four in the afternoon.

"Now you can be caught," she murmured quietly to herself, already feeling a wicked thrill at the idea.

Lips curling into a smile, Hermione canceled the _Muffliato_ and began to play in earnest.

* * *

 _A/N: The poem Hermione is reading at the beginning is Sonnet 43 by Elizabeth Barrett Browning._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Enjoy!_

* * *

Minerva found herself humming quietly as her eyes absorbed a rather poorly written article in the May edition of _Transfiguration Today_.

She hadn't had much time to read over the summer and her subscription to the noted journal had been one of the first things to fall by the wayside in the course of the long days at Hogwarts. However, if May was proving to be any indication, it seemed her discipline had not experienced anything genuinely groundbreaking in a good long while.

Minerva scoffed lightly as she flipped another page, peering over her spectacles as she absorbed the footnotes and additional research team members.

 _Meryvn Tambling is a sorry excuse for Master,_ she thought derisively. _The wizard could barely conjure a sock let alone contribute anything substantial to… what is this drivel? The effect of genetically engineering Dragonpox to produce enhanced photoelectrics?_

Blinking slightly, Minerva stopped humming for a moment as she licked a finger to turn the page, and experienced a surreal rush of confusion as the musical sound continued to echo.

Removing her spectacles, the journal was swiftly set aside as Minerva stood, turning in place as she suddenly realized that the familiar melody was issuing from the floor below.

"Hermione," she breathed… unconsciously walking toward the door and in the direction of the beautiful music.

 _Clair de Lune…_ she thought, her mind suddenly flickering through long lost pages of music to identify the familiar melody that suddenly flooded the Manse with life.

Biting a lip, Minerva debated whether or not to descend the stairs and listen. She pressed herself against the threshold for a moment, her lips unconsciously curling into a smile as she listened to the witch play.

 _She's quite good…_

Minerva felt an irrational swell of pride at the realization even as her feet began carrying her into the hallway, cocking her head to one side as her fingers ghosted over the banister, pleased as the sound began to grow clearer with each step.

She found herself hugging the wall as she descended the staircase slowly, nearly holding her breath for fear that Hermione would hear her and stop before she could get to the drawing room.

Distantly, Minerva felt as though she were walking in a dream - the hot air of the summer day seemed to hold the entire Manse under a silencing spell and the gold squares of sunlight patterning the oak hallway looked like the frozen backdrop of a Pensieve memory. The old house felt surreal and suspended, and for a moment Minerva wasn't even sure that _she_ existed - there was only the weightless pull of music, persuading her to drift along the warm wood floors… closer and closer to the source.

Suddenly, it seemed, she arrived to the doorway of the drawing room and Minerva stopped, her heart beating in her throat as she took in the image of Hermione sitting at the old baby grand, a few stray curls spilling down her back… her lithe figure rolling gently in contrast to the stillness of the grand space.

The bright white of the witch's sleeveless blouse seemed to jump out against the soft, faded pastels of the empty room. The piano was nestled in the far right corner, just barely falling into the shadows away from the arched windows that looked out toward the south. A thin sliver of sunlight had snuck past the faded drapes and a few dust motes sparkled in the light as they drifted lazily across the scene, giving Minerva the surreal feeling that she was witnessing something rather private.

She watched in fascination as the young woman's arms rippled across the piano keys with sensual confidence. The fragile torso suddenly seemed much stronger than it appeared and she could just make out the lines of lithe muscle working to coax depth of color and sound as the witch swayed in time with the rolling notes.

Minerva held her breath, captivated by how expressive Hermione was as she played.

Her stance was wide on the piano stool - right foot carefully attending to the pedal with unconscious ease. She could see the witch's focus drifting over the keys with almost reverent care, her long fingers nearly caressing the keys as they spilled upward toward the higher registers as the final restatement of Clair de Lune began to resolve itself toward the end…

Minerva felt herself leaning forward, feeling a bittersweet melancholy wash over her as she pressed into the gentle sound.

She didn't want it to end.

She caught the barest glimpse of the woman's profile as her focus turned to the left, drawing the music down into smooth, dark depths of the lower register… the ghost of a smile winding across sculpted features as Hermione bowed forward slightly, pulling the melody along with nimble fingers...

Hermione's hands crossed over one another… and Minerva let her head lean against the threshold, chin lifting unconsciously as the gentle hands just barely grazed the final note… the silvery sound breaking upon the still air with all the lightness of a floating feather...

And then... it was over.

Minerva exhaled silently as Hermione relaxed, the tension leaving her body smoothly as the witch sat back for a moment, readjusting the stool as her feet found both pedals… she leaned forward, lifting both hands expectantly…

The first few notes of Chopin's _Nocturne_ fell upon the silence and Minerva watched, entirely rapt as the witch built the warm depths of the atmosphere with her left hand as the right trilled easily, sweeping her along a new journey.

And a moment later, Minerva found herself creeping forward again - all her Animagus senses on alert as she carefully placed one foot in front of the other… suddenly longing to reach out and insert herself into the beautiful image, but also afraid that it would burst suddenly, like the opalescent pearling of soap bubbles… leaving her alone and in silence.

Whether it was the soulful melody, the witch before her rocking gently as her hands slid down the keyboard, or her own sudden need to remain wrapped in the secure embrace of the music itself, Minerva felt the back of her throat grow tight as she listened… feeling incredibly moved and also incredibly aware that Hermione was unknowingly providing her with the balm that her tired soul needed.

She chose to remain a few steps directly behind the witch - catching her own reflection in the mirror hanging upon the wall above, though it was tilted and hung so that she could only see her eyes. Minerva was surprised by the amount of wonder she saw gracing her own features… and as her gaze slid back down to the graceful arms and chestnut curls, she decided to allow herself a moment to simply feel.

Hermione's fingers tripped along the piano, fluttering playfully as the nocturne briefly dipped into the major key… one long curl bouncing against the witch's neck as her arms shifted quickly, bringing a light spur-of-the-moment quality to the music that had Minerva smiling…

A moment later, the young woman was leaning forward, her touch growing light, almost as if communicating a secret to the piano itself as her hands trickled upward through the arpeggios unfurling toward the clear, brilliant G - a high zenith of sound.

Hermione tilted her weight slightly, almost as if falling backwards in slow motion - the silence hanging like a tether before her right hand caught her… quickly sweeping through the nocturne's trills and familiar theme with unfettered clarity as she moved toward the end… carrying Minerva along the sparkling arpeggios and adornments of the final movement.

Minerva felt herself sway forward as the witch's fingers moved with expressiveness and control she hadn't seen in years… distantly curious as to how the witch would use those hands in other circumstances… or to handle complex Transfigurations and dual wand work…

 _She would be marvelous…_

Thoughts grew fractured as Minerva breathed in lightly, hanging on Hermione's final elegant movements… grounded by the warm repetitive arpeggios against the ascending spiral toward… the exquisite finish.

Again, there was a moment of silence as Hermione's hands floated off the keys with ethereal ease… the emptiness tinged with a feeling of eternity before the witch simply settled, bowing her head slightly as if paying homage to the music itself.

"Where did you learn to play like that?" Minerva breathed quietly, her voice suddenly sounding much too loud in the empty space.

Unexpectedly, Hermione simply turned smoothly and graced her with a warm, thoughtful smile, seemingly unsurprised by her presence.

The dark caramel eyes looked up at her and Minerva didn't miss how they quickly absorbed her braid and lack of spectacles - a flash of _something_ crossing Hermione's face… _was that appreciation?_ \- before she scooted to the left and patted the bench beside her.

Before she could consider what it would mean, Minerva gracefully slid in next to the young woman, her nose immediately inhaling the pleasing combination of old books, fresh cotton, and lily of the valley. It was a gentle, familiar sweetness and Minerva was surprised to discover that she didn't feel nearly as awkward sitting so close to Hermione as she would have thought.

"Do you play?" Hermione asked lightly, left hand rising to stroke the keys lovingly as she broke eye contact and automatically gave Minerva a bit of space to adjust to their close proximity. There was a brief flash of gratitude that the young woman could read her so easily, but unexpectedly, Minerva found herself turning into their close quarters out of curiosity.

"I s'pose I do," Minerva replied, watching the thin fingers ghost over the worn ivory keys that had lost a bit of their gloss. "I used to play quite frequently, though it's been many years since I've sat here like this."

"My parents forced me to take lessons as a child. I think they knew I would come to appreciate it when I was older," Hermione said softly, still looking down at the keys. There was a hint of wistfulness to the witch's voice and instinctively, Minerva knew that Hermione felt regretful. They had not discussed what had happened to her parents during the War, though Minerva had gathered that they had become casualties in the last year.

She felt a pang of empathy for the young woman.

"I am sure they would be happy to know you are enjoying it now," Minerva replied honestly, tilting her head slightly to take in more of Hermione's drawn and pensive expression.

"Yes."

The word was quiet and laced with sadness and suddenly Minerva couldn't bear the thought of seeing the young woman cry.

That hadn't been her intention.

Leaning forward slightly, Minerva slid her hands across the piano keys and shifted… both feet coming into contact with the pedals even as her left thigh pressed flush against Hermione's. Rather than shy from the contact, Minerva found herself reveling in the warm heat between their two bodies - her elbows lifting slightly to provide more leverage… Hermione moving back slightly to accommodate her.

And then she was playing…

For once, Minerva was glad of all the recent work she had been doing upon the castle. Her fingers responded to the remembered music quickly and more nimbly than she could have hoped. The long hours of complex spellwork had left her hands strong and steady. Distantly, Minerva mused that Albus had been right…

Her elbows lifted and bowed with the familiar undulating arpeggios and Minerva felt herself relaxing into the complicated embrace of Chopin's _Fantaisie Impromptu_ , the young witch at her side momentarily forgotten as she lost herself into the lilting notes and heady embrace of the living music.

The middle section had always been her favorite and Minerva floated through the winding notes and chords, pedal moving with the natural breath of the melody… unconscious and supportive.

Her core muscles tightened abruptly, binding the final section with precise, lighting-fast trills of her fingertips, reveling in the speed and excitement as the music carried her along, almost faster than she could even respond...

As the theme reasserted itself simply in her right hand for the final time, Minerva reveled in the deep rolling arpeggios of her left hand… the warmth and darkness of low notes resonating within her chest and drawing forth a familiar pleasing ache… before the echoes of beauty trailed off, whispering along into silence…

Minerva released her fingers from the keys, drawing a deep breath into her lungs as though she had just run a long way… feeling calm and satiated in a manner that left a smile curling at her lips.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered reverently, breaking the silence as one gentle hand rose to wrap across her upper arm before Minerva could lower them from the keys.

She flushed as the young woman leaned forward - turning her body slightly to press a gentle kiss against the side of Minerva's neck. The light and rather intimate gesture suddenly flooded her body with heat and Minerva felt herself blush, ducking her head even as Hermione drew back shyly.

A moment later, they were again two separate bodies and she turned, feeling somewhat breathless, to find Hermione's eyes shining with happiness as she gave Minerva a charming lopsided smile.

"I didn't know you could play like that," the young witch whispered even as Minerva's own eyebrows rose up toward her hairline.

 _That was_ _ **my**_ _line._

"Albus insisted I learn to help with my Transfiguration Mastery," she explained after a moment, clearing her throat absently to break the sudden deep husk that threatened to color her usual clear tones. Hermione's brows drew together in surprise and confusion.

"But why would - _oh…_ " The dark brown eyes widened in understanding as Minerva smiled. A moment later Hermione's lips curled into a smirk.

"So that means you're _at least_ a fourth classification Mistress," Hermione quickly deduced, reading into the unspoken clue to her abilities. All Transfiguration Masters obtained a second wand in their fourth classifications, learning how to wield both instruments with expert efficiency. Albus had all but insisted that Minerva take up playing the piano to help speed along her fine-motor abilities… and despite her initial reluctance, she had to admit that the wizard had been right.

Briefly Minerva wondered how the younger witch had learned such a well-kept secret, though she simply chose to smile enigmatically in response.

"Perhaps," she replied noncommittally even as Hermione shook her head and chuckled.

"That's amazing."

The younger witch ducked her head slightly, a few stray curls falling across her cheeks as she gazed down at the piano keys absently, a light smile playing around her mouth. Minerva felt an irrational surge of pride at the compliment, but she merely folded her hands and turned herself to face the young woman more directly.

"What's more amazing is that I didn't know that _you_ possessed such an aptitude for music. Your playing was delightful, Hermione," Minerva said sincerely.

The younger witch shrugged lightly, straightening as she sighed… her long lashes fluttering as she gave the piano a fond smile.

"Thank you," she replied softly. "I never imagined it would feel this… therapeutic."

Minerva nodded sympathetically, letting her own eyes trace the well-worn instrument in appreciation.

"Indeed. Music has the ability to soothe the soul in ways that sometimes words cannot."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, each content with her own thoughts. The memory of Chopin continued to float through her body and mind like a pleasant aroma and Minerva wet her lips lightly… vaguely wondering if she should consider preparing dinner for the two of them. The golden light seemed to be shifting away.

"Do you know any duets?" Hermione asked suddenly. Minerva's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Some… my mother and I played together on occasion," she replied softly, already reading into the unspoken request. Internally, Minerva realized that she was rather pleased. Rising carefully, she moved to a cabinet in the corner - unlatching it carefully and wrinkling her nose as a prickle of dust immediately issued from the rows of sheet music.

"Are you familiar with Chopin's Minute waltz?"

"I've heard it," Hermione replied, the slight intonation indicating that the witch wasn't fond of it. Minerva buried a smile. At times, her little lioness was so easy to read.

"I warn you that I'm dreadful at sight-reading," Hermione confessed quietly. Minerva turned in surprise, finding the witch slouching slightly as she bit her bottom lip. Her dark eyes regarded Minerva with a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

Now _that_ was surprising.

"How ever did you come to play so well?" Minerva asked, genuinely astonished. Hermione's lips twisted and she looked down at her hands guiltily.

"I have near perfect pitch," she said slowly. "It was always far easier for me to listen to a piece and replay what I heard rather than struggle to put the notes together by looking at a page. I used to convince my teacher to play long passages so that I could replicate her quality and dynamics. It also meant I didn't have to sight read as much."

The incongruous notion of Hermione Granger refusing to read _anything_ had Minerva chuckling in bemusement, turning into outright laughter a moment later when the dark brown gaze lifted to reveal a rather guilty expression.

Well that explained her ability to do well so many of her classes. Minerva had found that most students at Hogwarts were visual learners - something that was generally supported by Transfiguration and its methods, though she had noticed that many times, students had difficulty with her longer lectures… unable to focus and absorb information through auditory means.

Hermione had never been one of those people.

"I apologize for laughing, Hermione," Minerva explained, shaking her head slightly as she turned back to the sheaves of music. "It is just delightful to learn an unexpected facet about you, that's all."

Finding a thin blue book, Minerva turned again, eyes twinkling even as Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I know, I know… you're not the first to be surprised. It drove my mother crazy to no end," the witch said, shaking her head in amusement. "As I became more proficient, there would be times when I'd have to sit at the piano for hours to plunk through one complicated page unless I managed to find a recording of the piece somewhere. She used to leave the house rather than listen to me struggle."

Minerva returned to the bench, sliding in next to Hermione easily as she set the book on the music stand.

"Perhaps we can start with something a bit more palatable," she said gently.

Hermione regarded it with thinly veiled trepidation as Minerva tossed her braid over one shoulder, intending to reach forward and peruse the index for a familiar piece by Mozart.

"I like your hair like this," Hermione murmured softly, giving her thick hair a fond look. "You should wear it in a braid more often."

Minerva stilled, unused to being complimented so casually.

"Thank you," she replied, already knowing that her cheeks were flushing pink. "However it is much too distracting and difficult while I am teaching."

The witch was silent for a moment as Minerva quickly read through the list of pieces.

"It's probably better that you never wear it down," Hermione agreed quietly a moment later, one hand coming up to brush through a few her own curls that spilled across her forehead. Something in the small statement struck her as odd.

"Why?" Minerva asked, genuinely curious. The elegant brows were drawn together as the younger witch fiddled with her hair, pulling pins out which loosed the riotous curls from their messy up-do.

"Oh, because I'm sure there would be a number of silly students like myself wanting to touch it," Hermione replied easily, sighing slightly as she banished the pins and tossed the mane over her shoulder. Minerva was surprised to see it fall nearly halfway down her back, spilling across the witch's narrow shoulders in a completely wild manner… though she imagined that Hermione likely hadn't had time for a haircut while she and the boys had been on the run.

The sweet comment took a moment to register and Minerva's lips curled into a wry smile as she flipped back to the index to find a different piece. _Perhaps the Romanze..._

"You were never silly, Hermione," she replied seriously.

Another thought occurred.

"And you're no longer my student."

Minerva bit back a smile as she felt the younger witch still, turning toward her slowly.

"Does… that… mean?" The tentative question made her smile in earnest.

"If you wish it," Minerva replied easily, bringing the book into her lap for a moment. A quick glance to her left made her chuckle as she took in Hermione's shocked and shy expression.

She let the book sit for a moment, suddenly enraptured by the myriad of emotions crossing Hermione's face. The witch bit her lower lip rather adorably, her dark caramel gaze regarding Minerva's long braid with a mix of trepidation and longing. Minerva fought not to laugh. _It's just hair…_

A moment later long fingers gently grasped the end of her braid, lifting it in both hands as the luminous eyes widened comically and Hermione's mouth fell open into a broad smile.

"Merlin! It's so heavy! How do you ever wear it up all the time!" she breathed in amazement, still testing the weight. Minerva _did_ chuckle at that, shrugging her shoulders lightly.

"I s'pose I rarely think about it now. It's become second nature," she replied, watching curiously as the familiar length of her ebony mane was carefully wound around the witch's light honey fingertips. The image seemed unexpectedly intimate.

"I think I'm rather jealous," Hermione commented lightly, reaching up higher to thread her hand around the base of the braid. Minerva fought not to shiver as the innocent touch elicited a delightful sensation down the length of her spine.

"I could say the same of yours. As a child I always longed for curly hair," Minerva replied, flipping through the pages quickly, hoping that the witch wouldn't notice how utterly delightful her touch felt.

"The grass is always greener," Hermione sighed, carefully tucking a stray strand behind Minerva's ear. She felt her lashes flutter as the gentle touch trailed down her neck slightly before the younger witch turned back to her own mane - pulling it across her right shoulder and looking at a few of the crimped and crumpled ends in distaste.

"I've never really learned how to get this under control. I meant to cut it a while ago, but there never was any time," Hermione said conversationally. Minerva simply raised an eyebrow as her fingers found the proper page. Opening it, she set it carefully on the stand, already tracing the the first movement in her mind.

"What do you think?" Hermione suddenly turned to her with a serious expression, shifting her knees so that she faced Minerva more directly. Lifting her eyebrows, Minerva merely looked to the side and smiled in response. It was so unlike the young witch to be concerned about her appearance.

"About what?" she asked.

"My _hair._ "

Hermione's tone of voice indicated that it should have been obvious to her. Minerva bit back a smile, choosing to narrow her eyes as she cast a cursory glance over the chestnut curls.

"I think you should do whatever makes you feel most comfortable," Minerva replied diplomatically. Internally, she applauded herself for the supportive answer, though farther down she refused to admit how much she had grown to love the waterfall of tangled waves and ringlets. There was something unpredictable and raw about them. _Like a true lioness..._

Hermione frowned, her eyes tracing the long length of Minerva's braid with just a hint of envy.

"Will you do it?" she asked after a moment.

"Do what? Cut your hair?" Minerva asked in surprise.

Part of her was still disbelieving that they, of all people, were having this conversation.

"Yes... I trust you," Hermione replied softly, reaching forward to curl her hand around Minerva's braid for a moment, before letting it trail down her arm to rest upon her bare wrist. The dark brown gaze was open and beseeching.

Whether it was the extreme heat or the simple surprise of being touched so casually, Minerva was dismayed when she felt her cheeks flush and she quickly looked back to the piano keys, searching for a safe place to rest her focus.

"Of course," she managed, shifting to sit forward slightly. "Whenever it pleases you."

* * *

They played for another hour and a half - Minerva coaxing Hermione through a passable rendition of Mozart's Serenade as she bit her lip and tried to keep her focus on the written notes rather than the deliciously long fingers that kept crossing over her right hand to caress the keys in front of her chest.

The duet had come to an end when Hermione's stomach announced its hunger in no uncertain terms, causing her to blush and laugh in embarrassment. Minerva had chuckled lightly, sweeping a hand in front of her to quietly lower the fallboard back into place.

Dinner had been rather informal and Hermione had been surprised when Minerva suggested that they eat in the kitchen rather than moving into the formal dining room. They had split the preparation duties and Hermione had gathered that the witch had been impressed by her simple summery version of gazpacho. Though she hadn't admitted it, it was clear that Minerva detested cooking and Hermione had quickly made a mental note to spend more time in the kitchen as a subtle gesture of gratitude toward her host.

They perched at the simple preparation table in the kitchen and eventually Minerva admitted that she usually ate while multitasking, frequently standing up and reading a book at the kitchen counter while attending to a number of other things. Hermione had been delighted by that small tidbit of information and had insisted that they didn't have to eat in the formal dining room every evening to Minerva's palpable relief.

After dinner, they had quietly tidied up the kitchen together and Minerva had taught Hermione a number of useful household spells that she had never seen. It was both disconcerting and reassuring to see the older witch in such a domestic setting… and Hermione had realized with a start that she quite enjoyed it.

"Knut for your thoughts."

Minerva's soft contralto cut through her musings and Hermione realized that she had been standing with her arms crossed, leaning against the counter as she gazed out the kitchen window toward the darkening sky.

The other witch was sitting at the kitchen table, gazing at her with a soft expression and unexpectedly, Hermione felt her heart seize.

Minerva's braid was draped over her shoulder and she had one elbow propped upon the table supporting her chin as she looked at Hermione curiously, her emerald eyes a bit darker in the dying light. Without the trademark silver spectacles, the weight of her gaze seemed far more piercing. There was no trace of the Headmistress in her posture - only Minerva, and Hermione found her eyes lingering on the delicate wrists and the gentle hint of sweeping collarbones peeking out from beneath the white oxford shirt.

 _I wish I could capture this moment forever._

"Would you cut my hair?" Hermione asked shyly, dropping her gaze to the floor as she realized that she was staring.

"Right now?" There was a small note of surprise.

She shrugged in response, suddenly not trusting herself to speak. Her cheeks felt flushed and somehow her mind kept replaying echoes of their duet along with long fingertips brushing past her wrists as they sought the keys just in front of her stomach.

Hermione looked up as the chair scraped upon the flagstones as Minerva rose, walking forward and motioning for her to turn slightly. She obliged out of curiosity, moving to rest her right hip against the counter as she crossed her arms and waited.

"How short were you planning?" Minerva's voice was rather close and a moment later Hermione shivered as she felt the light touch of fingertips lifting her heavy mane away from the back of her neck.

"I don't know… the ends are rather gone, don't you think?" she replied, attempting to keep her voice level as the light touch continued to elicit a number of reactions throughout her body.

Minerva hummed noncommittally and Hermione smiled, knowing that the witch had her own opinion but was refusing to share it for whatever reason.

"Do you think I should leave it long?" she asked softly, turning her head to the left slightly. The hands paused for a moment though Hermione could feel their warmth barely brushing against the fabric of her shirt.

"I think perhaps you should wait until you are certain of what you wa-."

"That's not what I asked," Hermione interrupted, turning in place to suddenly to find herself nearly nose-to-nose with Minerva. Green eyes widened in surprise.

 _Oh Merlin..._

Before the witch could move away, she found herself reaching out and placing a light hand on the woman's chest… fingertips lightly tracing the crisp starched collar even as she heard Minerva inhale sharply. At once Hermione found that she was intensely curious to be so close to the witch, breathing deeply as she took in the smell of fresh parchment, mown grass, heather, and hints of citrus and ginger that must have come from the woman's soap or shampoo.

Dimly, something about those combination of scents resonated in the back of her mind as her fingers began moving upwards, tracing the line between the brilliant white fabric and shadowy place where the collar met the soft skin beneath Minerva's left ear.

"Why... does it matter what I think?" Minerva's voice was barely a whisper and Hermione's gaze zeroed in on rosy lips… much fuller than she had always imagined. The bottom lip was plump and firm while the top formed a perfect cupid's bow with smooth arches that Hermione suddenly longed to trace with a finger.

"Because I care," she intoned, letting her eyes move upwards to trace over high chiseled cheekbones, ivory skin, and a straight narrow nose. Features that she could recall over many years and in many different situations… and yet they somehow seemed far more luminous and alien when viewed up close.

Hermione felt like she was seeing Minerva for the first time… as though a veil had suddenly been lifted and the glorious woman beneath had been revealed. Finally, her gaze traveled upward to meet clear emerald eyes that were watching her observe from beneath long lashes, a small crease between straight sweeping brows the only indication of the witch's confusion.

She breathed in the intoxicating scent again, her own lips parting lightly...

"I like it long," Minerva said suddenly, stepping back and putting a bit more space between them.

That action seemed to break the moment and Hermione found herself blinking in confusion before nodding even as she watched Minerva's poised mask suddenly slip into place. The witch folded her hands nonchalantly in a well practiced action that Hermione recognized as one covering insecurity before a dark eyebrow rose slightly in challenge.

A moment later, Hermione felt her own eyebrows quirk in response as her lips curl into a small smile.

 _She felt it. Whatever **that** just was. She felt it too._

That quiet certainty allowed her to fold her arms confidently and regroup.

"All right," Hermione replied in a more normal tone. "Will you still trim it for me?"

There was a split second hesitation before Minerva nodded and Hermione had to fight not to break into a wide grin.

 _She absolutely felt it._

"Maybe we should go outside?" Hermione suggested, gesturing toward the back door. It seemed logical enough and Minerva gave a curt nod before shrinking a kitchen chair and summoning it into her open palm.

Hermione moved to open the door, mind already buzzing ahead… attempting to think of another way to get closer to Minerva without making her run away.

 _Maybe you should think about what you want from her?_ A small voice suggested.

As she stepped outside into the warm, humid air of twilight, Hermione's lips thinned.

What did she want?

She turned halfway and watched as Minerva followed her, the green gaze falling somewhere between Hermione and the floor. Her elegant features were drawn into an intense expression of concentration as the witch appeared to think about something rather hard. At once, Hermione was struck again by how beautiful Minerva appeared in her casual white oxford and simple grey trousers, her heavy braid falling down her back as she followed…

The casual image seemed at odds alongside the hundreds of other memories of pristine emerald robes and the severe black bun, and yet… beneath it all, Hermione realized how clearly she understood and could read the nuanced expressions that played themselves across timeless features and threaded along the tall, lithe figure.

She realized that she was likely one of the few people who could honestly say that they truly _knew_ Minerva McGonagall in the manner of a close friend… and that was a privilege she never would have anticipated.

Everything seemed so clear all of a sudden.

The kitchen door had opened onto a small flagstoned terrace and Hermione took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh scents of summer and suddenly feeling ridiculously giddy at the epiphany that had just presented itself to her.

They stepped into the indigo light and the world suddenly opened into the pastel hues of twilight. A few birds called to each other gently as Minerva conjured a number of floating candles before returning the chair to its normal size.

"Sit here," Minerva instructed carefully, her clipped tones indicating to Hermione that the witch was still in the midst of regrouping. Hermione bit her bottom lip and knew that she didn't want to let the woman recover.

Something had changed in the kitchen just a minute ago and she was damned if she was going to let it just pass by without some sort of acknowledgement… or confirmation.

Turning her focus to her sleeveless blouse, Hermione began unbuttoning it carefully, listening as Minerva apparently conjured and summoned a few other items.

A moment later, her actions received the desired response.

"What are you doing?"

There was just the barest hint of apprehension lacing Minerva's voice and Hermione bit back a giddy chuckle.

"Well, I don't want to get hair down my shirt," she replied casually, refusing to turn and look up, knowing that she would laugh. "Do you mind?"

Another pause.

"Not at all."

Hermione peeled her blouse off carefully, vanishing it to her rooms and sitting back in her simple lace bra. The warm air slid across her skin and she was suddenly aware of the thickness and humidity hanging in the summer air… immersing her body in a warm, fragrant pool of heat. Mentally, she congratulated herself for having chosen a bra that she liked - it was simple skin-toned mesh but edged in black lace that gave it just a small air of sensuality.

She felt rather than heard Minerva pause and swallowed another smile.

"If you would… lean back please?" The uncharacteristic note of uncertainty in Minerva's voice made her heart leap and Hermione scooted down in the chair slightly so that she could tilt her head backward and let it rest against the back of the kitchen chair.

Looking upward, she saw that Minerva was standing behind her, brows furrowed in concentration as she deftly lifted Hermione's curls to drape over the back of the chair.

Out of reflex, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as a dark slip of firwood was suddenly directed toward her forehead.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Minerva murmured and a moment later a cool jet of water was flowing from her wand, bringing a delightful sensation to her scalp as Minerva carefully wet down her hair. Hermione felt herself shiver and she shifted slightly to tuck both feet up to rest on the seat of the chair more comfortably, her arms coming to wrap around her knees as she surrendered to the gentle touch.

Minerva disappeared from her vision for a moment before returning, cupping something in her hands.

Before Hermione could ask, the long fingers were threading through her hair more firmly, spreading something new and sticky and a moment later she realized that the witch intended to wash her hair.

"Ohhh my… Sweet Circe, Minerva," Hermione groaned in appreciation, muscles relaxing as the light touch began to gain a bit more confidence. Her nose flared slightly as she caught again the scents of ginger and citrus. "Where did you learn to do this?"

Minerva simply chuckled and Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as the long fingers began massaging her scalp in earnest, causing her entire body to break out in delicious goosebumps despite the warm evening.

"My mother used to wash my hair for me when I was little," Minerva replied softly. Above the floating candles seemed to frame the witch's face and Hermione found herself wanting to watch the woman's expression even though it was a strange angle.

"I had difficulty with my hair when I was young. She wanted me to wear it long but it was always getting caught in things and getting dirty whenever my brothers and I played outdoors."

Hermione bit her lip as she listened in surprise. Minerva rarely discussed her past so freely. Her brow furrowed beneath the gentle ministrations and she tried to imagine the elegant woman behind her as a gawky and uncoordinated little girl.

"My mother was not a very happy woman and I lived for simple moments like those… when she would wash my hair and sing to me in the summer. Or when we would sit at the piano and play a duet when the rest of the family went into town."

The careful loving touch seemed to thread between her thoughts and Hermione felt her emotions quickly unraveling in response. The rational part of her was completely suspended in disbelief - _Minerva McGonagall_ of all people was washing her hair in an unprecedented display of casual intimacy that she would have never ever expected from someone so tightly bound.

 _But she's human…_ Another voice insisted. _There's far more to Minerva beneath her controlled exterior…_

That voice quickly won out, and Hermione replayed the quiet lilting voice… as one phrase jumped out in her mind.

"Will you?" Hermione croaked, suddenly acutely aware of the tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

Minerva's hands paused.

"Will I what?"

"Sing to me?" Hermione breathed, tilting her head upward to catch the emerald gaze that seemed to be looking at her in disbelief. As soon as the words had fallen from her lips, Hermione felt a wave of embarrassment - acutely aware of how intimate a request she had just made.

She closed her eyes, desperately hoping that the witch would oblige, though preparing herself for the woman's polite excuses and gentle rebuff. Something in Minerva's memories had reminded her of her own mother… and unexpectedly Hermione found herself biting her lip, holding back a sudden wave of emotion that threatened to break loose.

That rising tide was suddenly interrupted by a smoky contralto voice, and Hermione's eyes flew open… her lips parting in awe, as she froze - afraid to disturb the beautiful tones and immensely touched that Minerva had obliged her request.

 _She's singing..._

The haunting melody seemed ethereal and otherworldly as it reached her ears and she tilted her chin slightly to watch Minerva's face…

The words were clearly Gaelic, but Minerva's full lips formed them reverently as her hands slowed to match the rhythm of her plaintive song. Emerald eyes seemed soft in the flickering candlelight and Hermione found her eyes drawn to the pink slip of a tongue that fluttered lightly to form soft lisping consonants.

Another stream of water issued from the witch's wand, sliding across her hair and making soft pattering sounds against the flagstones as the melody rose in its winding path, giving Hermione a strange heady feeling as though she weren't quite grounded in her body... as if the haunting tune could have somehow separated her from her physical form and lifted her into the warm, fragrant air.

Firm hands squeezed the extra water from her hair as Minerva slowly finished, her warm smoky voice fading away into the gentle summer breeze.

* * *

Minerva found herself taking a step back as Hermione abruptly sat up and turned, her wet hair falling in thick ropes across her bare shoulders. Dark caramel eyes were glistening with unshed tears and she was startled at the intensity of the younger witch's gaze.

"Minerva… I…"

Abruptly Minerva turned away, blushing fiercely and wondering what had ever possessed her to honor Hermione's quiet request. _No one_ had ever heard her sing… not since childhood at least!

Strong hands suddenly encased her shoulders and Minerva was turned forcefully - her eyes blinking as she fought not to stare at the luminous expanse of bare skin that suddenly invaded her vision. A moment later, Hermione was hugging her - arms wrapping around her waist tightly as her wet hair tickled Minerva's chin. A few stray droplets fell upon her white shirt, soaking through the thin fabric and soothing the warmth that suddenly blossomed in her chest.

"Thank you, Minerva," Hermione whispered, her voice somewhat muffled as her cheek pressed against Minerva's collarbone. "That was… beautiful."

Hermione pulled back, leaving her arms encircling around Minerva's waist as her gaze once again unerringly found Minerva's own. Unable to help it, Minerva smiled at the honesty she read in the dark eyes… ignoring her burning cheeks for a moment to press a soft kiss against the witch's hairline.

"Come. Let us finish," she said quietly, pressing against warm shoulders to nudge the younger woman back to the chair. Hermione opened her mouth, looking as if she were about to say something else, but she closed her lips and turned, spraying Minerva with a few more water droplets.

Hermione returned to the chair, draping herself over it carefully to ensure that her long, wet curls remained free.

The air remained warm, though the sky was nearly black - the stars scattered across the deep velvet like an array of jewels. As she strode back to take her place behind Hermione, Minerva's breath caught and she found herself staring at the witch's exposed shoulders… the light from the candles flickered over the soft ivory skin, highlighting the graceful curve of sweeping collarbones and the gentle pucker of the witch's sternum that lead down into the gentle valley between smooth breasts encased in a simple lace bra.

The long neck was tilted back and Minerva could barely see the fluttering of the witch's pulse, one stray curl tracing the elegant curve of exposed muscle...

A moment later she met the trusting dark brown gaze with her own, quickly shifting to lift the mane of heavy hair. Taking a steadying breath, Minerva lifted her wand… noting absently how her hand seemed to tremble slightly. _Pull yourself together…_

A whispered murmur swiftly untangled the long locks that were already beginning to curl and twine. She marveled at the depth of color - suddenly realizing that while she considered Hermione's hair to be a shade of dark chestnut, there were strands of honey, strawberry, and caramel wrapped into the shining gradient.

Carefully, Minerva began running her fingers through the strands, grasping a small portion at a time as her wand attended to a severing spell. The frayed and gnarled ends began to fall away and she smiled as Hermione sighed in satisfaction, small snippets of curl beginning to litter the flagstones beneath the chair.

She worked quickly and quietly, combing her fingers through the ends as she worked to even out both sides. The evening remained quiet, crickets chirping softly in the distance even as the wind rustled through the trees. The air was still hot and Minerva felt a few beads of sweat gathering at her brow.

After a few more minutes she straightened, grasping Hermione's hair and shaking out the ends to release any lingering pieces. Murmuring a special drying charm, the dark curls quickly spiraled into delicate ringlets and Minerva gave a satisfied nod, a gentle hand on the soft shoulder indicating to Hermione that they were finished.

"Well? How does it look?" The witch stood up, passing a delicate hand through her hair as she felt the difference. Minerva hadn't really cut all that much… though it did look considerably more presentable.

Hermione turned, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as her eyes twinkled in amusement. Minerva's own eyes widened as she drank in the sight of soft spiraling curls, slightly rumpled in voluminous layers that left the witch looking like some sort of enchanted lioness.

Minerva suddenly felt a swooping sensation in the pit of her stomach as her mind abruptly unraveled her fluctuating feelings… the pieces snapping together into a clear picture as she gazed at the young woman standing before her.

"You look beautiful," Minerva whispered.

Somewhere deep in her chest, she felt her heart constrict painfully - a lump appearing at the back of her throat and burning slightly as Hermione's timeless features broke into a brilliant smile.

 _Oh Merlin help me..._

* * *

 _A/N: The song that Minerva sings is a Gaelic lullaby - "Ba Mo Leanabh"_

The other piano pieces mentioned in this chapter are:

 _Clair de Lune_ by Claude Debussy  
 _Nocturne No. 20 in C-sharp Minor_ by Frédéric Chopin  
 _Fantaisie Impromptu in C-sharp Minor_ by Frédéric Chopin  
 _Eine Kleine Nachtmusik II. Romanze_ by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Halfway, perhaps._

* * *

Hermione awoke early, momentarily disoriented as her ears detected distant bird calls and the droning buzz of insects.

Shifting slightly, she realized that she was lying in a large white bed, her limbs askew as her head tilted toward the open window that was betraying the sounds of an awakening world. Squinting, Hermione threw off the light sheets which were twisted around her legs, groaning softly as she realized how hot she felt.

Wiping her face with a delicate hand she realized that there was a light sheen of sweat covering her entire body.

Grimacing, Hermione sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. One hand came to rest at her temple as she realized that she had a dull headache and her throat was parched.

 _You're probably dehydrated_.

Picking up her wand from the bedside table, Hermione waved the window open a bit wider, wrinkling her nose slightly as it made little difference to the ambient temperature. Plucking at the thin fabric of her cotton chemise, she waved it slightly, blowing down the front of her chest as she sought to cool her flushed skin.

The sun was barely poking over the horizon and Hermione sighed, casting a tempus and realizing it was barely past five thirty.

 _This is going to be a disgusting day_ , she thought ruefully.

While the Wizarding world had made many significant advancements, there was no such thing as air conditioning and Hermione was certain that the Manse didn't have it either.

 _Maybe Minerva would be up for a field-trip..._

Hermione summoned a few hairpins and a clean sock that she transfigured into a long length of simple white cotton. Pulling her voluminous curls atop her head, she wrapped the fabric around them and tied it tight. Minerva had trimmed her hair admirably, but it was already far too hot to leave it clinging to the back of her neck.

Sighing, she decided to pay a visit to the kitchen as she was without changing… _Minerva will probably stay upstairs until seven._

The heavy oak door opened with a thin creak and Hermione winced as another heavy wave of hot air ghosted upon her skin. Despite the general darkness of the old house, it seemed to retain heat in a way that seemed entirely disadvantageous given the horrid weather.

Pulling at the thin strap of her nightgown absently, she quietly padded her way into the shadowy hallway, already feeling the remaining moisture in her skin begin to pebble lightly as another sheen of sweat spread itself across her body.

The fourth day at the Manse had passed quickly... and despite Hermione's hopefulness that Minerva would open up following their rather intimate evening, they had spent the majority of the day apart - each one attending to her own interests. Hermione had woken early due to the heat and puttered around the kitchen for a while before retreating to the Library and curling up on the cool floor with a book. Minerva had remained upstairs for the majority of the day, though Hermione had caught her wandering through the formal living area at one point - passing through the dusty shadows carefully as she had peered at the Muggle pictures lining the mantel.

Something in the woman's countenance had shouted loneliness and Hermione had remained frozen in the hallway, heart pounding in her ears for a long moment before she slipped away... at once hating herself for not having offered the witch comfort and fearful that Minerva would have brushed her aside. Later, she had slipped into the quiet room and absorbed the still photographs for herself. None of the faces had seemed familiar, though Hermione had paused at finding one that appeared to show Minerva's family...

It was a black and white image, slightly grainy, though it showed a tall, thin man in Muggle clothing standing next to a rather pretty woman with dark hair and high cheekbones. The man had his arm around a thin willowy girl who looked to be about twelve, her eyes solemn as she gazed into the camera with an almost defiant gaze. Two young boys were smiling goofily at the camera - their mother's hands on a shoulder as they stood in front of a large oak tree Hermione recognized from the Manse's grounds.

The haunting image had stuck with her and Hermione had crept away, mind full of more questions about Minerva's past and all the things she had yet to discover about the enigmatic woman.

The Manse was silent as Hermione gave a great, indelicate yawn, lifting both arms overhead and hearing a satisfying crack in both her shoulders. Minerva had joined her in the late afternoon when she had started again at the piano - sitting quietly with a soft smile on her face as she had listened to Hermione play Chopin's _Tristesse._ They had attempted another duet that left Hermione slightly frustrated, but Minerva had merely patted her arm and assured her she had done well.

Dinner had been rather subdued, and despite her best efforts, Minerva had departed early... mumbling something about feeling fatigued before disappearing upstairs, a palpable aura of sadness hanging around her thin shoulders like a shroud. Hermione's heart had ached... wanting desperately to see the return of the woman's beautiful smile... and then she had sat alone in the Library, wondering at the reason behind her own rolling emotions while simultaneously marveling at how quickly Minerva had worked her way under her skin.

Hermione sighed. _Maybe today will be better..._ A moment later she wandered into the kitchen and froze, one hand midway through rubbing the silvery scar that prickled along her sternum.

She opened her mouth to say good morning and then frowned at realizing the witch sitting at the kitchen table hadn't even moved to acknowledge her presence.

Moving quietly, Hermione carefully circled around to the other side of the chair. The woman was wearing a thin cotton nightdress similar to Hermione's own and she fought not to stare at the exposed skin as she absorbed the pale creamy arms and flushed cheeks. Minerva's long sheen of hair was slightly disheveled as it fell across her shoulders in a lustrous curtain, and Hermione allowed herself a smile as she absorbed the intently furrowed brow and lightly parted lips.

It was clear that Minerva had somehow fallen asleep in the kitchen, though it was unclear how long she had been sitting at the table. Her chair was pushed back slightly, one knee propped upon the seat in the most casual, indecorous position that Hermione had ever seen the woman affect. One elbow was propped upon the knee and folded beneath the witch's head in an awkward manner that looked somewhat uncomfortable.

Hermione watched the steady rise and fall of the woman's chest absently, at once reassured by the rhythmic breath and slightly concerned as her eyes zeroed in on the pale skin where thin camisole straps folded inward to dip down into the shadow between the swell of unexpectedly full breasts. Her gaze faltered as it passed over the silvery tell of scars marring the soft flesh, unconsciously running a hand over her own marred forearm, a burst of anger flaring at the thought of someone harming the woman before her.

A moment later, Hermione allowed her eyes to roam a bit further, her own breath growing shallow as she traced the willowy figure with a hungry gaze. Pale arms were perfectly smooth, the long elegant hands relaxed - one folded across her lap and the other lost in the ebony waves falling across the back of the chair. The witch's feet were rather small… her ankles narrow and arched in a deliciously feminine manner, while the thin white fabric of the Minerva's nightgown revealed the outline of impossibly long and toned legs.

 _She is divine,_ Hermione thought in awe. _I've never seen something more beautiful..._

She stepped backward slightly in surprise as the witch turned her cheek, a small sigh falling from full lips, wincing fearfully as she bumped into the kitchen table and its legs skidded against the stone floor.

The witch's eyes fluttered and Hermione quickly moved over toward the sink, not wanting to be caught staring. She plucked a tall glass from one cabinet and quietly filled it with water even as she heard Minerva stir behind her. Her heart seemed to be beating rather quickly.

"'Morning…"

The witch's soft whisper prickled upon her ears and Hermione turned nonchalantly, smiling as she found Minerva sitting with her ankles demurely crossed, in the middle of a sigh as one elegant hand languidly combed through her long hair.

"Good morning," Hermione replied, drinking in the rather Romantic image of a sleepy Minerva, slightly mussed from sleep but somehow appearing close to picture perfect. It was undeniably adorable… and intimate.

"I trust you slept well?" The familiar voice grew clearer and the witch was regarding her with the ghost of a smile. Hermione tilted her head.

"I did. I gather that you did not?" Hermione replied, one brow arching as Minerva's lips thinned slightly.

"No," she sighed, pulling her long sheet of hair forward across one shoulder. "I awoke quite early and found it difficult to fall asleep again… in bed, that is."

There was a dry edge the witch's voice and Hermione chuckled lightly, pleased that Minerva didn't seem embarrassed at having been caught sleeping in her kitchen.

"May I?" Hermione asked softly, seeing that Minerva intended to braid her hair. Green eyes merely blinked at her for a long moment before the witch let her hands drop, shifting slightly to turn away from Hermione in an obvious invitation.

Her stomach fluttered and she quickly set her glass down, thoughts of the coming day already forgotten.

"I assume you'll want it up later, seeing as it's so hot?" Hermione asked quietly, drawing close and letting her fingertips run through the silky strands as her stomach fairly flip-flopped in excitement.

Minerva gave a noncommittal hum in reply that she took to mean yes.

"What do you have on your agenda today?"

Minerva remained silent for a moment longer as Hermione let one finger part the heavy curtain of hair on one side, tying off the other with a simple containment charm.

"Nothing, I s'pose," Minerva replied after a moment, a small note in her voice betraying her curiosity at Hermione's ministrations. "Is there anything you would like to do today?"

"I thought that maybe since it's so hot, we could venture somewhere a bit cooler," Hermione replied hopefully, wanting to draw the woman away from whatever melancholy had come over her. She began to deftly weave the long ebony ropes together carefully. Minerva's hair was quite thick, but the individual strands were rather fine, making the braid somewhat loose and slippery. She distantly wondered how the woman ever managed to keep her hair its regulation strict bun.

 _Magic, probably._

"Mmm… have ye ever been to the Isle o' Skye?"

Hermione paused to swallow the smile at the sudden resurgence of Minerva's Scottish accent. The smooth contralto still held a breathy hint of sleepiness to it and Hermione briefly wondered if the witch would require a nap later in the day.

"I have not. Is it close to us?" she asked curiously, realizing that she actually didn't know where the Manse was situated in relation to the rest of Scotland. From the flatter terrain, she assumed they were fairly far northeast.

"No… we'd have to Apparate."

Hermione nodded before remembering that Minerva couldn't see her.

"That sounds nice," she replied smoothly, falling into a rhythm with her hands as Minerva appeared to relax. Looping the silky strands one over the other, she tied off one braid and sent it over Minerva's shoulder, ignoring the witch's curious glance before she started on a second.

Quiet birdsong filtered in from the open window above the sink and Hermione wet her lips, ignoring the small tickle as small beads of sweat began forming above her lip. The silence grew between them as Hermione worked but neither of them felt compelled to fill it.

The air in the kitchen was thick with heat and humidity as Hermione's arms looped the braids around one another, placing a few pins strategically as needed.

"There," she declared eventually, placing her hands on her hips and nodding. "You're all finished."

Minerva turned, shaking her head experimentally as she frowned and attempted to figure out what Hermione had done. Waving her wand, she transfigured a salt shaker into a mirror and held it up, turning her head back and forth to assess Hermione's work.

The ebony hair had been parted on the witch's left side, close to her temple with one thick braid coming around to circle across the top of her head like a crown. The other braids had been looped and wrapped around each other into a spiraling bun, higher than Minerva usually chose for herself, pinned just behind the crown of her head in a manner that Hermione felt lengthened the graceful neck attractively.

"Thank you," Minerva murmured softly, looking up at Hermione in surprise. "It's lovely."

Hermione shrugged and responded with an easy smile.

 _It's not like you've waited weeks to try that._

"Tea?"

* * *

Minerva was rather pleased with her hair.

The unpredictable gusts from the nearby waterfall brought another spray of cool mist their way and she was pleased that Hermione's complicated braids were holding up without any need for magic. She would have to remember the style for future reference.

The younger witch was sunning herself on a separate blanket, brow furrowed lightly as her eyes sped along the small text in her book with voracious focus. Intermittent sunshine filtered through low, quick-moving clouds providing them with a good amount of light while also allowing for moments of respite from the hot rays.

Tilting her head from side to side, Minerva paused in her reading to stare at the younger woman more openly. They were angled so that she could watch rather unobtrusively without raising Hermione's attention. The witch was laying on her stomach, ankles crossed and swaying gently to and fro as she read, bare feet alternately flexing and pointing gently whenever she had to slow and figure something out.

The long honey-colored legs were well-toned and distantly, Minerva recalled the witch talking about how she liked to run on occasion. Running her tongue over her lower lip, she allowed her focus to travel over the shapely swell of the woman's upper thighs and hips, the dip of her low back, and across the span of her upper torso that Minerva knew was also rather sinewy and well-toned.

Her mind flashed to the night before last and how Hermione had shamelessly banished her blouse away in order for Minerva to trim her hair. That Gryffindor brashness had resonated against memories from her own youth, though she couldn't recall ever having been so comfortable with her body as Hermione clearly was. She supposed that part of it had to do with growing up in a different generation…

Even today, despite the warm weather, Minerva was wearing simple linen slacks and another light Oxford shirt. Rationally, she knew that her body was in good shape and that she possessed a nice figure… but the thought of baring it before others? It seemed far too vulnerable.

Minerva closed her eyes briefly, wishing that she could feel as open and free as the younger woman before her. She was so set in her ways… closed-off, as many others had said. Cold.

A trickle of sweat slipped down the furrow between her breasts and Minerva had to admit that she was growing uncomfortably hot.

"Knut for your thoughts," Hermione called gently, setting her book down to look over her left shoulder impishly. Minerva sniffed, shaking her head at having assumed her quiet observation would have gone unnoticed by the sensitive witch before her. _Bollocks..._

"I was considering how very lovely you look today," she replied honestly, re-crossing her legs and arranging the light fabric slightly. Her bare toes peeked out of the beige linen and Minerva couldn't help but feel self-conscious at seeing their pale color.

"Well, thank you…" Hermione replied, wrists crossing absently as one eyebrow rose. "And I suppose you weren't reconsidering your own outfit in this heat?"

Minerva lifted an eyebrow and refused to comment as the witch's full mouth tipped into a knowing smile. _How does she do that?_

"I'm only teasing, Minerva," Hermione said, her eyes warm and kind. The caramel gaze drifted over Minerva's reclining body before the witch rolled onto her side, propping one arm on her elbow to look at her seriously. Minerva felt strangely naked to the open gaze.

"There's no one here right now except me, you know. If you want to change into something more comfortable, I'm not going to judge you for it," Hermione said sincerely.

Minerva fought the urge to snap in reply - Hermione was only being kind. But before she could think of an eloquent answer, the younger woman was rolling to her feet, brushing a few stray blades of grass off her sleeveless denim dress.

"I'm going to dip my toes in the water in if you care to join me," she offered before stalking away toward the water without waiting for an answer. Minerva watched her go, feeling a strange combination of irritation, envy, grudging admiration, and frustration.

In her typical forthright fashion, Hermione was becoming more and more adept at reading through Minerva's impassive silences - a fact that she found both freeing and completely unnerving. It was still beyond her that the young woman appeared to genuinely enjoy her company… and Minerva harbored a number of doubts as to the nature of their evolving relationship.

She had spent the previous day lost in her own musings as her mind worked to rationalize her growing feelings for the younger woman. Hermione had caught her off-guard, that much was certain. And while Minerva knew she was being a terrible host by shutting herself away, somehow the incongruity of seeing the lovely young woman wandering around her childhood home rankled in a way that left her feeling confused, uncertain, and decidedly guilty.

 _You can't possibly have anything to offer her…_ A small voice nagged at the back of her mind. _She has her life ahead of you while you have lived through **three** wars..._

It didn't help when Hermione loosened her curls from their wrap a moment later, tossing them with a carefree hand and banishing the slip of fabric back into her beaded bag. Minerva watched as she nimbly approached the wet rocks at the nearest pool - smiling when she caught the small shriek of surprise as Hermione stepped into the water, turning to look back at Minerva with an overwrought expression that soon had her chuckling.

 _And yet... she brings you joy... something that has been in short supply for you in the last several years._

Ignoring the small voice in the back of her mind, Minerva let her book fall. Even in the height of summer she knew that the water would be shockingly cold and she had to admit it did sound like an appealing diversion at the moment.

Sighing softly to herself, she passed a hand absently over her hair even as she set her book aside. Rising from her comfortable seat against a dark boulder, Minerva stood, quickly siphoning off unwanted bits of nature with her wand. The change of position brought a wave of fresh air to her sticky clothes and she resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose.

In the distance, Hermione had found a dry rock and was perched on it, feet dangling in the cold water looking like an angelic blend between a beautiful young woman and an innocent child.

Feeling a wave of sudden determination, Minerva passed a hand over her clothes - transfiguring the fabric... blending, lengthening, tailoring slightly… and breathing easier a moment later when her simple trousers and shirt reformed themselves into a sleeveless linen shift. It was a simple dress - ivory colored, that hugged her torso through the hips while two long slits up the side of her legs allowed space for movement.

She meandered toward the pool of water, enjoying the feel of fresh grass between her toes - smiling softly as Hermione visibly brightened at her change of outfit. The spray from the waterfall suddenly misted her in a refreshing breath of cool water and Minerva gracefully lifted the hem of her dress, one arm extending for balance as she stepped into the bracingly cold pool.

Hissing lightly, she shivered in pleasure while Hermione bent low to scoop some of the cold liquid along her bare arms.

The quiet rush of water was rather soothing and Minerva lifted a hand to shield her eyes as she looked around the wild rugged landscape in appreciation. The rocks beneath her feet were worn smooth and she waded a bit deeper toward the large boulder that Hermione had been sitting on a moment before.

Perching upon it lightly, she smiled and watched while Hermione skipped a few stones across the pool.

She was thankful that the younger woman mirrored her in some aspects - neither of them felt the need to fill silence with conversation and Minerva was content to watch as the witch tossed stones with lazy abandon. _I s'pose it's turning out to be a beautiful day after all._

A moment later, her breath caught as Hermione turned slightly, brow furrowed as she fiddled with a few stones in her hand. The sun caught the witch's arms in the light and Minerva realized the young woman was covered in a light sheen of sweat and mist - the small droplets catching the rays of sun and giving her honey skin a luminous glow as the bright white globe continued its ascent overhead toward the noon zenith.

Minerva let her gaze drift off toward the opposite bank of the small stream, mood spiraling somewhat as she once again considered how very different they were. _She is so young…_

"Don't."

Minerva looked up sharply as Hermione's soft command interrupted her thoughts.

"Don't do that to yourself."

She felt herself grow still, smoothing her features into a serene mask before Hermione waded closer, pressing into her personal space slightly to place a warm hand on her cheek - her fingers slightly wet from the water. The contrast in temperatures made her flinch slightly and the younger witch smiled even as her thumb ghosted over Minerva's cheek.

"You are a truly beautiful woman, Minerva McGonagall. Don't ever doubt that," Hermione whispered, her focus lingering somewhere around Minerva's mouth. Her lips parted, but Minerva found herself at a loss to say anything at all.

"I see when you drift away like that... when I know you're judging yourself. Don't beat up the one person I care about most. There should be sonnets devoted to you, Minerva… normal words don't do you justice. Composers should write new operas about you - about your intelligence, wit, and beauty. Believe me, you are far from old and anyon- any _wizard_ would be lucky to have you."

Abruptly, Hermione was stepping back, seemingly flustered by her own presumption and she appeared to take a steadying breath before regarding Minerva with a serious expression.

Minerva's mind had stopped computing somewhere in the middle of Hermione's impassioned speech - unable to reconcile the witch's sweet words as describing own person. However her attention had been caught Hermione's uncharacteristic stumble over the words near the end... _why not say 'anyone'?_

Minerva couldn't help the immediate hopeful fluttering in her stomach as she considered what the witch might have been trying to tell her. Her mouth opened and Minerva bolstered her Gryffindor courage before she could think twice.

"Well, wizards would be entirely out of the question," she managed dryly, leaning back upon the rock to gaze upward to the falls. She felt a brief stab of fear at Hermione's reaction to her honest truth. Suspicions about the young woman's own orientation and interests were one thing, but voicing her _own_ was completely different.

"Hippogriffs, then," Hermione amended seriously, her expression dissolving into laughter when Minerva sent her a sharp glare. A moment later, Minerva found herself chuckling along, delighted at how easily the young woman managed to make her laugh.

A moment later their amusement died down and Hermione was regarding her with an expression that Minerva couldn't quite read. She felt her lips part of their own accord as if to speak, but her gaze shifted… glancing away from dark caramel eyes toward full peach lips that seemed full and inviting. They stared at each other for a long moment and Minerva was suddenly possessed with the irrational urge to close the gap between them and press her lips against Hermione's.

Those same lips curved into a smile and the witch moved away suddenly, lifting her denim dress as she began to carefully pick her way to the far left in the direction of the waterfall, oblivious to the ripple of horror suddenly flooding through Minerva's entire body.

 _Merlin - ye wanted to kiss her! What in the bloody hell d'ye think ye're doin'?_

Minerva waited, willing herself to keep her composure until she was certain that the witch was out of earshot. She released her breath in a startled gasp, one hand coming to her mouth as her body flushed and Minerva rocked forward on her perch, realizing… with spiraling dread that she indeed had feelings for the young woman.

 _Merlin, Merlin, Merlin! What are ye doin' Minerva? What can ye possibly be thinkin'?_

She felt a surreal sense of out-of-body disbelief as her eyes hungrily raked over the firm thighs that Hermione revealed as she waded out deeper, curls concealing her face as she turned carefully in the cerulean blue.

Well, it seemed that desire was definitely part of it…

Heat pooled low in her belly and Minerva bit her lower lip as the witch lost her balance slightly, lifting her dress even higher to reveal the smooth swell of one firm buttock and a bit of black lace - the image sending a jolt of imagined pleasure straight to her groin and Minerva had to look away, swirling her feet in the cold water and willing the icy needles to calm her fevered flesh.

A moment later Minerva was looking up again, longing to catch a glimpse of the familiar features as Hermione moved away from her and closer to the loud spray of water. Those luminous brown eyes knew how to read her so well. Eyes had streamed silver tears on several late nights, as Minerva had held the witch close while she cried on her shoulder. Eyes that had glared at her more than once while they debated contemporary theories until the embers burned down… eyes that weren't afraid to challenge her, disagree, or rail at her irrationally in a way that no one else even dared.

No, Minerva wanted… _needed_ more from Hermione… and it terrified her.

Rising swiftly, she murmured a drying charm and headed back toward her blanket, mind suddenly spinning as she realized that she was being pulled...

Drawn like a moth to the flame…

Falling closer and closer to the edge...

Falling head over heels in love with Hermione Granger.

* * *

Hermione felt a niggle of concern when they returned to the Manse after lunch.

Minerva had been rather quiet all morning and she had been unable to coax the witch out of what appeared to be another melancholy mood.

The Fairy Pools of Skye had been a gorgeous outing and distantly she wondered if it would be place they could return to later in their vacation. They had read together on soft blankets for most of the early morning, content to sit in comfortable since as Hermione had worked her way through yet another volume of Victorian poems.

Eventually however, it had become rather hot and they had meandered in the cold pools for a while - an activity that Hermione had enjoyed a lot. Firstly, the cold water had been nearly intoxicating in the amount of relief it provided. She hadn't realized just how overheated she had felt all week until setting foot into the bracing chill. Secondly, Minerva had transfigured her first outfit into a stunningly simple and alluring linen dress that had driven Hermione to distraction as it provided tantalizing glimpses of the long ivory legs concealed beneath.

Hermione had worried that her gentle teasing had been taken too much to heart, and while it seemed as though Minerva had been both shocked and appreciative of her small lecture about being kind to herself… the witch had remained quiet and seemingly insecure for the remainder of the outing.

Hermione had been at a loss for how to reroute the witch's focus without revealing her own conflicting feelings... not entirely convinced that they would be unwelcome, but afraid of Minerva's reaction nonetheless.

She sighed softly, kicking off her sandals before tucking both feet up on her bed and gazing absently out the thin slice of visible window - she had drawn the shades down to keep out the noon heat.

Upon returning home, Minerva had bid her farewell and gone upstairs to rest. That, Hermione had understood… the witch had experienced a rather early awakening after all. The telltale aura of melancholy had still lingered however, and she hadn't known how to draw her friend out of it.

Rocking back slightly, Hermione grasped her knees and let her feet dangle. _Friend…_

 _I don't know if I want her to be my friend…_

"Friend" seemed like such a catchall label for a variety of people.

Harry and Ron were her friends. So were Ginny, Luna, and Neville.

Even Kingsley Shacklebolt and Hestia Jones could be considered her friends.

Minerva McGonagall was something else entirely.

The witch was alluring… everything about her physical presence seemed to drive Hermione crazy. Her distinctive scent. The way her eyes flashed whenever she was interested or upset. The subtle quirk of her lips. The way her long hands made complicated spellwork seem easy.

Beyond the physical attraction that she was quickly accepting had to do exclusively with the elegant woman who had once been her professor, Hermione wanted to unravel the witch's mysteries. She wanted to get beyond that discerning emerald gaze and hear the thoughts floating through that sharp and brilliant mind.

Minerva was sensitive and mysterious… but also predictable, though there was still plenty about the witch's life that Hermione didn't know and yet desired to… She wanted to know the woman's thoughts on a variety of subjects, yes. But beyond the engaging small talk, she wanted to hear about Minerva's childhood memories. Her aspirations for the coming years. Her worries or fears regarding her impending role as Headmistress. Her pet peeves. Her desires and vices...

Opening her hands, Hermione flopped back on the bed - breathing in the scent of fresh cotton even as she turned her head to look at the small eyelet pattern of embroidery decorating one simple pillow near her nose.

 _You've fallen in love with her…_ a voice supplied gently, instantly wiping all other thoughts from her mind.

The chaos seemed to clear and Hermione's brows drew together as she thought.

Briefly she recalled the intimate nature of their conversation the night before last and the way Minerva had washed her hair so carefully. Something different had shone behind that deep emerald gaze, and Hermione had felt a longing and warmth spread throughout her body that went beyond the purely physical. _Could it really be that simple?_

She replayed the memory of seeing Minerva asleep in the kitchen - her features open and relaxed in a way that Hermione had never before witnessed. The witch had seemed so fragile… small. Human.

 _Could it?_

Inhaling deeply, Hermione exhaled slowly, counting backwards from ten, staring up at the ceiling blankly as she willed herself to drill through the important points.

Ten.

 _You want to spend time with her_ …

Nine… eight

 _You desire her physically_ …

Six… five…

 _You value her intellect and spirit as a person_ …

Four… three..

 _You want to be a part of her future_...

Two...

 _You love her._

One.

Yes.

It really **was** that simple.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Well this was an unexpected development, but warning - lemon-y flavors ahead..._

 **Essentially, if you don't want to read such activities, now would be a good time to stop. Or just skip over this chapter.  
**

 _Also, should you wish to listen to the accompanying piece in real time - Hermione will be playing Beethoven's Sonata No. 17 in D Minor, III. Allegretto. Many versions are rather fast, I suggest looking up the YouTube version of Tzvi Erez playing._

 _It provides the, er... backdrop of inspiration._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

Minerva awoke to the gentle trickle of soft music… returning to consciousness with her attention focused upon the distant murmur of piano keys.

She inhaled slowly, stretching languorously as her body responded to the dreamy reverberations of _Rêverie_. The smooth lifting and falling of musical waves suddenly infused her body with a gentle heat and she distantly thought that it was a wonderful way to wake up.

Glancing toward the drawn curtains, the light seemed to indicate it was still mid-afternoon.

Minerva sighed softly, appreciating the roundness Hermione was infusing into the lower tones as the piece began to draw itself to a close. She waved her wand to open the door in order to catch the last notes even as she sat up slowly, feeling more satiated and alert after her nap.

The piano died away as Minerva rose, hands coming to her hair, and she was surprised to feel that the mass of braids had held.

A moment later her head turned at detecting the unmistakable strains of Beethoven's seventeenth sonata. The third movement if she was not mistaken… one she had always loved but never played.

Closing her eyes Minerva banished her linen dress, intending to change outfits before adjourning to the drawing room and joining Hermione at the piano. She was being an ungracious host.

Minerva paused the dress disappeared - reveling in the automatic comfort it provided as she stood in the middle of her bedroom in nothing but her silken underthings. The momentary wave of fresh air made her shiver slightly even though the ambient temperature was still quite warm.

Below, she imagined Hermione's hands dancing over the piano keys as the quiet arpeggios rolled together in sensuous waves.

Biting one lip, Minerva's own fingers rose of their own accord to ghost along the soft skin of her torso, rippling, skimming the flesh gently… as she imagined those same long fingers dancing across her skin as they were currently doing the keys.

 _You cannae do this.  
_

Minerva felt her nipples harden in response and her eyes flew open as she gazed toward the open door, feeling a heady sensation flood through her body even as her palms passed lightly over her the hardened points through the silk fabric of her bra.

The grazing touch sent sparks rippling along her skin, a quiet pulse of heat suddenly flooding between her legs and Minerva gasped lightly… pleasure twining between the melody as her mouth remained open, one thumb circling around the outline of an aureole teasingly.

Below, Hermione was oblivious to her mounting arousal… the music built into the deeper registers even as Minerva allowed her hands to cup her breasts more firmly, knees trembling lightly as the melody trilled, her eyes wide as she stared toward the open door that seemed to both taunt her and provide deliciously dark allure.

 _You have to stop…_

Octaves trilled powerfully as her fingers grew more bold in response, pinching her nipples gently as she felt her knickers grow even more damp… the building heat seemingly echoed by the pounding pulse along the lower notes. She pinched herself again as Hermione undoubtedly leaned into the warm low arpeggios, imagining the woman's strong muscles rippling in the late afternoon sunlight.

A dark dangerous energy suddenly flooded through her trembling body and Minerva licked her lips - disjointed images of Hermione flooding through her mind as she reached behind and deftly released her heavy breasts from their silk bra with trembling fingers.

Damp chestnut curls lingering against the long neck.

Deliciously full peach lips.

The thrilling curve of her exposed buttock, outlined in lace.

Minerva's mouth was open, her breath coming in short pants as her fingers slowly traveled down across the soft expanse of her stomach… mimicking the agonizingly slow ascent of the music as it built through the exposition, growing higher and higher as her hands encountered the soft barrier of lace at her hips.

Gentle fingers skipped down to circle over the soft skin of her inner thighs.

Minerva's brows drew together as her pulse pounded loudly in her ears, rivaling the pulsing arpeggios suddenly flooding the Manse with their insistent rolling. Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head as her thumb grazed the outside of her soaked panties, sending a powerful forkline of pleasure straight through her entire body.

She felt herself stumble backward to lean back against the bed, head tipping back as her eyes fluttered closed… the delicious transition from minor cresting over her as one hand slowly crept beneath the layer of lace and ghosted through her own wet curls.

Minerva opened her mouth wider, suddenly feeling as though she couldn't draw in enough air.

She was so _hot._

Flushed… her entire body trembling in anticipation, suddenly slick with a sheen of sweat… waiting for Hermione as the witch worked her way upward and back toward the recapitulation of the theme, her fingers coaxing out a trill as Minerva's own circled her swollen lips, refusing to touch… to revel until Hermione matched her...

As the familiar melody broke across the air in a powerful burst, Minerva bit back a moan as she allowed one finger to drag across the entire length of her wetness, delving into her folds and beginning to circle her hardening pearl in earnest.

Distantly, she heard her own labored breathing… it sounded loud to her own ears, punctuated by the thin echo of her voice as she fought to keep the breathy sounds contained within her own body.

Hermione's pressure grew more insistent - she could almost see the witch leaning into the notes with deliberate intensity, elbows lifting as she pressed her body weight into the piano's welcoming embrace.

Her eyes were trained upon the open door.

Minerva spread her legs wider, suddenly feeling wanton... opening her knees to allow her hand purchase as her fingers worked… the dangerous thrill of her illicit ministrations heightening her arousal as Hermione built the theme carefully, delicately…

She slid one finger deep inside as the melody transitioned into the major key, her head falling back as one became two… feeling a deep thrill beneath her sternum as Hermione gracefully opened the sound into a warm caress, giving the music the support and encouraging her own two fingers to become three.

The arpeggios grew in power and force and Minerva began pumping harder, knuckles grazing against her clit in a delicious manner while her hips rocked in response. She followed Hermione toward the end… the quiet wet sounds of her ministrations sounding marvelously vulgar as they fell into synch with the building rhythm.

Minerva felt herself cresting, the white-hot tendrils of pleasure beginning to weave together as together they moved toward the end of the exposition.

 _No, no… you must finish with her… with - with…_

Minerva froze, fingers buried deep as the melody dropped away into light trickling of the higher keys, waiting… curling her fingers slightly, refusing to move until…

 _There!_

The theme returned and she threw her head back, one hand continuing to pumping furiously as the other came to circle her clit, working herself higher and higher… her movements growing more erratic even as Hermione's hands grew more gentle, carrying the rolling melody upward… higher… _softer…_

Minerva's mind flashed with disjointed images… replacing her own hands with long, honeyed fingers… caramel eyes boring into hers, alight with lust… peach lips parted as the light voice called her name in a delicious breathy moan...

 _Ohhh Hermione!_

Minerva froze, her body jerking upright and into sudden stillness as the final wave of pleasure crashed over and through her.

Her fingers curling deep within her again and again even as her hips bucked against her nimble fingers, prolonging the sweet feeling even as her mind replaced her own hands with Hermione's…

She came in complete silence, mouth open… brows drawn together as her entire frame reverberated with delicious aftershocks.

Minerva remained still for another moment, willing her mind to remain quiet as she savored the end of her unexpected journey.

The last notes of the sonata faded into the quiet afternoon silence as Minerva reluctantly withdrew her hands, satisfaction pulsing through her as she relaxed upon her bed feeling utterly satiated…

 _Hermione._

The wave of guilt would come soon enough, but for the moment she reveled in the gentle buzz of pleasure spreading across her warm, sweaty body, her lips silently caressing those four perfect syllables with care…

 _Hermione._


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Bit of an M rating ahead for the last bit in this chapter._

* * *

"Minerva? Is everything all right?" Hermione finally asked, somewhat timidly after the witch set down her fork and sighed softly for the third time.

Green eyes widened slightly and a moment later the professional veneer was back, thwarting Hermione's efforts to initiate a genuine conversation.

"Of course. I'm simply tired," Minerva replied quietly. Hermione tilted her head and waited for a moment, noting how the witch seemed unable to meet her eyes. _What has happened?_

She had hoped to see Minerva in the late afternoon when she had reached her reading limit and had retired to the drawing room to play the piano. Minerva had disappeared shortly after lunch and despite not wanting to disturb her rest, Hermione had thought that four o'clock seemed like an appropriate hour to begin her practice. She had waited… working her way through some of her favorite pieces by Beethoven, but the witch had not seen fit to join her.

Hermione had been midway through making dinner when Minerva finally appeared in the doorway, murmured apologies falling from her lips even as Hermione had noted how agitated and upset the woman seemed. It had not bothered her in the slightest to have begun preparing their meal on her own, but she had hoped that Minerva would have arisen in a better mood. While she looked well-rested, the tension around the woman's lips and across her shoulders had told Hermione that the witch was far from all right.

"Do you think you will feel better tomorrow?" she asked hopefully, not wanting to sound too childish. The elegant brows furrowed slightly before smoothing into a pleasant smile.

"I should imagine so. Why? Was there something you wanted to do?" Minerva asked lightly, sipping her water elegantly.

Hermione swallowed a nervous smile, choosing instead to look at the table between them.

"I thought I might venture somewhere… else," she said carefully, peripheral vision attuned to the woman across the table. Minerva stiffened slightly but before she could speak, Hermione had pinned her with a meaningful look.

"I was hoping you would come with me," she whispered.

She had begun thinking of an idea before dinner… and despite her rational mind insisting that it was preposterous and completely presumptuous notion, Hermione couldn't let it go. Intuitively, she felt that getting Minerva out of her comfort zone might prove to the necessary catalyst toward carefully unfurling a few more layers of the witch's formidable armor. She only hoped that Minerva would be amenable to the idea.

Minerva's mouth opened slightly, her green gaze betraying her confusion and perhaps a slight tinge of apprehension. Hermione waited as the witch recrossed her legs, sitting back slightly and folding her hands in her lap.

"Where did you hope to go?"

The question was phrased in a careful, precise manner and Hermione knew that the witch was curious. _Yes!_

"Can I level with you for a moment, Minerva?" Hermione asked rather bluntly, leaning one elbow on the table.

A dark eyebrow rose and the witch gave an elegant nod.

"I love it here. The Manse is beautiful… the grounds are gorgeous. I love the Library and I've been perfectly content to sit and relax. I know it's hot, yes... however I've been getting the feeling that it's maybe not… what you need."

Minerva was staring at her with a hard opaque expression and Hermione pressed on, afraid that the woman was going to push her away and retreat behind her impenetrable mask.

"I've noticed that you don't really seem to be relaxing… though I can imagine it must be challenging after all this time… and that maybe you're still thinking about the upcoming months. Or perhaps it's difficult to feel as though you can truly relax when I am here in your personal space."

Hermione sighed, realizing that she was babbling somewhat, before leaning forward and placing a hand on the table between them.

"I just want you to feel comfortable, Minerva," she finished quietly, hoping that she wasn't pushing the boundaries of propriety.

Minerva lifted her chin slightly, lips twisting and eyebrows drawing together for a moment before her expression smoothed.

"My childhood home comes with many memories, Hermione. As I'm sure yours does as well," Minerva replied softly. "Unfortunately, not all of them are happy."

Hermione felt her eyes prickle slightly at the quiet admission before nodding, noting how the witch hadn't addressed a number of her concerns. Briefly, she wondered if Minerva truly _was_ uncomfortable with her presence, or if she simply wasn't willing to admit the entire truth. She pressed the niggle of concern away.

"Would you trust me if I took us somewhere else? Someplace neutral?" Hermione asked gently.

Minerva didn't reply right away, fingertips absently rubbing the rim of her water glass in a subtle way that Hermione found rather entrancing.

The green gaze simply looked at her for a long moment, seeming to trace Hermione's features as if searching for some indication of jest. She simply waited, hoping that the woman would see the genuine care and concern that she felt. _Please Minerva… I just want you to let go..._

"Where did you have in mind?" Minerva asked softly. Hermione's lips curved into a smile and she lifted a finger.

"That didn't answer my question," she replied quietly, infusing a bit of warmth into her words and hoping that she wasn't pushing Minerva too hard. The last thing she wanted was for the witch to feel pressured.

To her surprise, Minerva sat back slightly and let her hands rest upon the edge of the table.

"Yes," she said clearly. "To answer your question, I would trust you… rather, I _do_ trust you."

Hermione felt her heart threaten to burst with excitement, but rather than reach out to the woman, she chose to take a more conservative approach.

"All right, then," she said happily, banishing both of their plates to the sink with a playful swish of her wand. Settling back in her chair, Hermione regarded Minerva with a pleased expression, crossing her arms across her chest. By her accounts, it was a closed matter.

Minerva visibly took a deep breath.

"You aren't going to divulge _where_ you plan to take us?" Minerva asked slowly, a measure of irritation sneaking into her clipped tones.

Biting back a chuckle, Hermione fixed her with a soft gaze.

"That's the thing about trust, Minerva," she replied, rising and pressing her chair into place. Stepping forward, her fingers reached for the witch's left shoulder of their own accord and Hermione paused, looking down fondly even as Minerva raised an eyebrow. She was clearly unamused.

"Trust that I'm going to take us somewhere where we will both be safe… where we can both relax… and where I'm hoping you can feel more comfortable to let go," Hermione said softly, her rogue fingertips rising to stroke the witch's soft cheek even as her focus followed, greedily taking in the shadowy expanse of skin and feminine features.

Minerva appeared frozen, not quite meeting her eyes, but Hermione's satisfaction bloomed as she felt the witch tilt her chin upwards by just a fraction…

Immediately her thumb obliged the small gesture by tracing the rosy lower lip and ghosting down the long neck slightly before Hermione abruptly turned away, not trusting herself to remain any longer when her fingers suddenly desired so much more.

Moving to the sink, she quickly busied herself with the dirty dishes, ears acutely attuned to the now-silent kitchen behind her. From the reflection in the windows, she watched as Minerva remained utterly still for a long moment before she turned her head to the left, apparently watching Hermione out of her peripheral vision.

 _Please go along with. Please go along with. Please go along with it._

A moment later the witch rose silently, turning to watch Hermione directly even as she scrubbed their plates the Muggle way, pretending to be oblivious to the witch's quiet attention.

"I assume you wish to leave as soon as possible?" Minerva asked, her mood carefully concealed by precise tones. Hermione wasn't sure, but it seemed that the witch was content to let her take the reins, so to speak.

"I thought we could leave tomorrow morning and make a plan when we arrive. If you dislike it we can return, if you don't, we can stay as long as you wish," she replied.

Hermione turned, one soapy hand coming to brush a curl away even as she felt some of the bubbles get stuck at her temple. They crackled near her ear.

"The weather will be similar to what it is here. Though there will be no need for Wizarding clothes."

Minerva eyes betrayed her curiosity at that, though Hermione merely smiled enigmatically, knowing that there was absolutely no way that the witch could know what she had planned.

The elder woman nodded thoughtfully, filing that information away before stepping close and wiping the bubbles from Hermione's temple. She felt her cheeks flush as Minerva lingered, looking down at her with an opaque expression before drawing close…

Soft lips pressed a gentle kiss to Hermione's cheek.

"I shall see you in the morning then," Minerva whispered, the quiet syllables tickling Hermione's ear.

"I look forward to it," she husked, surprising herself with the low timbre of her voice. Minerva had paused mid-way through turning away and she thought she saw a visible shiver glide over the elegant figure.

Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

Minerva lay in her darkened room, watching stars begin to break out across the night sky.

Thought it was far too early for her to fall asleep, she hadn't been able to focus on anything after dinner and had eventually succumbed to the inviting embrace of her bed.

Hermione's unexpected invitation had both thrilled and terrified her. The younger woman was so perceptive… sensitive. Minerva had been touched by the witch's concern, though part of her was embarrassed at how quickly the younger woman had read into her melancholy mood.

Her traveling bag sat halfway packed upon the shadowy chintz in one corner of her room.

Rationally, she knew that Hermione's mystery destination would likely be palatable - the young woman was much too conscientious to take her anywhere unpleasant, and despite her uncertainty in packing, Minerva knew that she could simply transfigure her clothes to whatever was needed. But it had been _that_ \- the simple act of packing that had undone her.

She had begun feeling energized and excited… intensely curious to see what Hermione had planned for the both of them, and reasonably enthused at the idea of leaving the Manse. However, not long after, her own sense of foolishness had crashed down upon her.

Hermione was just being _kind._ The young woman likely felt sorry for her… watching her wander through the Manse all alone like some sort of pathetic old spinster, no friends dropping by to pay her a visit, no family lining the drafty halls.

Minerva truly had nothing to offer the young woman.

And she was certain that Hermione saw it… and pitied her.

The faint blush of candlelight flickered under the door and Minerva turned her cheek, watching the subtle shifting colors even as the soulful notes of _Moonlight Sonata_ began drifting through the quiet air.

Minerva took a deep breath, listening as Hermione unknowingly began to play the one piece of music that seemed to honor her crumbling emotional state.

 _She is so talented..._

The dark chords resounded in the hot humid air, piercing her with every bittersweet pulse, the arpeggios of the treble part briefly reminding her of her own disgusting moment of weakness in the earlier afternoon.

She was so _foolish._

Tucking her head more deeply into the pillow, Minerva bit her lip and cried.

* * *

The Manse was eerily silent when Hermione finally closed the fallboard. The candles she had conjured were burning low, the long tongues of flame growing more and more feeble as they bathed the drawing room in flickering shadow.

Hermione drifted over to the drapes and pulled them aside. The complete and utter darkness of the outside world was strangely comforting. The rural landscape seemed to absorb all of the ambient light and the weight of it settled around her like a heavy blanket. She could make out a few constellations twinkling above, though without the light of the moon, there was little to see.

Sighing, she lay her head against the cool glass of the windowpane, noting how lethargic she felt in the evening heat. Beethoven had soothed her momentarily following dinner, and while she had held out a bit of hope that perhaps Minerva would come down and join her, there had been nothing but silence from the upper floors.

Turning, Hermione extinguished the candles as she lit her wand, the ghostly blue-ish light providing just enough visibility for her to traverse the humid halls back to her own room.

While it wasn't late, she didn't feel like reading, and out of courtesy to Minerva upstairs, she had stopped playing as the hour drew closer to half past ten.

As she glanced behind her toward the shadowy outline of the staircase there didn't seem to be any indication that the other witch was still awake. If she hadn't known that Minerva was upstairs, Hermione would have sworn she was entirely alone in the old house.

Arriving to her rooms, Hermione closed the door halfway, hoping that the heat would die down overnight but leaving it ajar for more air flow. She set her wand still illuminated on the vanity near the doorway, squinting slightly as it reflected into the oval mirror and back into her eyes. She tugged at the white wrap that held back her curls, pulling it off and setting it on the vanity while murmuring a cleaning charm. She'd essentially been sweating for the majority of the day.

Wetting her lips, Hermione unbuttoned her jeans and peeled them off - reveling in the momentary respite from their restrictive confines as her thoughts turned again toward Minerva.

 _What if she hates Saint Paul?_

Sighing, she began unbuttoning the top of her blouse before getting irritated and simply pulling it off over her head.

 _She won't hate it._

One, Minerva would be far too polite to admit such a thing, though Hermione was admittedly a bit worried about their destination's floor plan. It was much harder to sequester oneself away in the small flat, though she hoped that the witch would be a bit more open to sharing her company once they arrived.

Two, Hermione was fairly sure that the small village would provide just the right amount of distraction for Minerva. The flat was small and cozy and situated in a quieter corner of the town that she felt would meet with the woman's approval. It was also close to a number of smaller cafés and bookshops, and if nothing else the scenery and close proximity to the sea could be refreshing.

Peeling off her bra, Hermione tossed it toward the chair in one corner of the room, stretching as her torso adjusted to the newfound freedom. The humid air seemed to caress her body and she shivered for a moment before catching her ghostly reflection in the mirror.

The bright sheen from her wand made her appear otherworldly and Hermione stared at herself for a moment, disliking how the dramatic light highlighted the long silvery gash that ran diagonally from just beneath her left collarbone to the bottom of her right ribs. While she didn't _hate_ the scar, per se, it suddenly seemed like such a violent marker against the rest of her youthful appearance.

 _You're being vain. Besides it wasn't your fault._

Her finger lifted to trace the scar's pathway, noting its uneven texture in comparison with the relative softness of her surrounding skin. Hermione's lips twisted as she noted how her hip bones still protruded somewhat. Though she had done her best to keep a healthy diet after the Final Battle, she could still see the outline of her ribs and how the soft planes of her stomach were pulled tight in a way that spoke of prolonged malnutrition.

Distantly, Hermione wondered what Minerva would think of her body... and if she would ever consider her beautiful.

Her mind flash with the witch's face, hearing those very words echoed when she had turned after her haircut to find Minerva staring at her oddly - something like surprise registering on her elegant features while her eyes were shining with a darkness that Hermione had never seen before. The smooth Scottish brogue had rung with honesty...

But as her own fingertips ghosted over her torso, Hermione stared at herself and had difficulty reconciling that word with her own body.

Pursing her lips, Hermione stared, watching her long fingers travel over her pale skin in the blue-ish light, hair hanging limp around her face.

Feeling a flash of frustration she grabbed her wand.

"Nox."

Throwing it back onto the vanity and casting an apprehensive glance toward the shadowy open door, Hermione closed her eyes and sighed before stepping back, her hands lifting again to ghost along her arms - barely touching the skin and the downy "peach fuzz," as her mother used to say.

Thinking of her mother brought a flush of embarrassment to her cheeks and Hermione made a face in the darkness, rerouting her thoughts to flash through images Minerva instead.

Her hands floated up to slide through her damp curls, remembering the gentle way the woman had washed her hair... her warm smoky voice singing syllables that Hermione hadn't understood and hadn't needed to. In that moment she had felt completely safe and cared for... the long fingers winding across her scalp and brushing the back of her neck in a manner that had been delicious and soothing.

Hermione's eyes opened in the darkness, attempting to discern shadows in the inky blackness even as her hands began skimming down the sides of her neck, across the bony planes of her sternum and lightly around the slight swell of her breasts, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. She opened her mouth slightly, feeling a growing sense of heat and wetness between her legs as her palms pressed against the sides of her stomach and down toward the simple cotton barrier of her panties.

She quickly peeled off the offending garment and kicked it to one side, returning to stillness with her feet spread slightly apart. With the small amount of starlight coming in from the open window she could just make out her own subtle silhouette in the vanity mirror - an indigo sketch of a woman with long curls and long legs.

Biting one lip, Hermione let her right hand brush the damp curls between her legs... at once feeling a delicious sense of release and swell of arousal as she remembered Minerva's long pale hands commanding the piano keys with easy confidence from the day before last.

The piece by Chopin had always been her favorite and one that Hermione had always known would never be hers to play.

It was incredibly fast - demanding a nimble sense of dexterity and subdued approach to quality, otherwise it could become reckless, erratic, and inconsistent.

Hermione exhaled slightly when her questing fingertips encountered wet heat, jolting when her index finger caught the edge of her swelling arousal.

It seemed fitting that it would be Minerva of all people who would play it for her with the perfect combination of precision, feeling, and flow.

Hermione cupped her sex for a moment, imagining lidded green eyes looking down at her with tightly controlled lust. One finger dipped into her folds and Hermione shivered, still imagining Minerva's face watching her carefully as the witch worked to undo her while simultaneously working to remain in control of her own passion.

Two fingers circled her clit and Hermione's head tipped back slightly, her breath becoming more and more difficult to regulate. She imagined that Minerva would be a marvelous lover... careful, patient, sensitive. Those long hands had already betrayed their abilities and Hermione's fingers began moving faster, remembering the speed with which they had caressed the piano keys.

Her ears were pricked to alert her to any ambient sound however the Manse remained silent... her own breath suddenly seeming unnaturally loud and uneven in the quiet darkness.

Hermione felt a delicious thrill.

While she was usually aware whenever Minerva entered a room, the witch was incredibly stealthy... the wicked feeling intensified her arousal and she had to bite back a moan at imagining what would happen if the woman found her now... fingers working between her legs, curls damp and matted against the side of her throat, and thoughts full of delicious images of the witch herself...

Long legs hidden beneath ivory folds of fabric...

The endless expanse of her neck.

High cheekbones meeting brilliant almond eyes that were slightly angled at the corners, turning down in a way that gave Minerva a perpetually sultry appearance...

Full lashes that concealed those clear green pools, casting thin shadows across her ivory skin...

Rosy lips that begged to be kissed into swollen submission...

Hermione's hand moved faster... suddenly needing _more._

She moved backwards quickly until her lower back encountered the windowsill - more starlight falling upon her and in the mirror she could see the indigo light limning her shoulders and small breasts, one hand working quickly even as she lifted her right knee higher...

Her left hand rose and replaced the right, giving speed and vibration where she most needed it.

Hermione's head fell back against the window with a soft thump as her right hand suddenly plunged inward, burying itself in her warm heat as a shudder wracked her body...

 _Gods, Minerva..._

She longed to say those words aloud but in the heavy silence Hermione didn't dare.

Moving her right hand slowly she leaned back further, tilting her hips into the delicious rhythm as the backs of her shoulder blades burned against the cool glass.

Her fingers moved in and out slowly as Hermione squeezed her eyes shut...

Imagining long ivory fingers disappearing in and out of her curls as Minerva gazed up at her, rosy lips parted in lust, watching her come apart beneath her careful ministrations...

Hermione's own hands rising to pull the ebony hair from its confines to spill over narrow shoulders...

Minerva would smile and move faster... _Yes, just like that..._

Hermione bit back a groan as pressure began to build, low and hot... her actions creating a soft wet rhythm in the still air that began to grow faster and more unpredictable. Her left hand was beginning to cramp...

 _More, Minerva... please!_

She added a third finger, feeling her body stretch to accommodate... her pleasure burning hotter, sharper... sustained by flashes of long black hair, green eyes, the warm tones of a thready Scottish brogue...

Hermione spread her legs wider, rocking her pelvis up to meet her hand, suddenly heedless of the wet slapping sound that filled the small room.

She shuddered, curling her fingers deeper and her two hands met in perfect harmony for a split second to send her over the edge, exhaling in a rush even as she clenched her teeth together to remain silent... body trembling as a flood of warmth streamed beneath her fingers.

 _Minerva!_

Hermione's heart thundered in her ears as she folded in upon herself, hands still buried deep in her own warmth... chest suddenly full of inexplicable longing.

She pressed her fingers deeper as her body trembled in the aftershocks of pleasure.

 _Minerva..._

Green eyes seemed to float in her mind... their haunting gaze bearing witness to her quiet collapse.

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and Hermione took a deep breath before letting it out quietly.

"Minerva."

The quiet whisper fell into the inky darkness and Hermione waited for a long moment.

But there was no answer.

* * *

A/N: Pieces mentioned in this chapter:

 _Piano Sonata No. 14 in C-sharp Minor "Quasi una fantasia" - 1st. mvt._ by Ludwig van Beethoven  
 _Fantaisie Impromptu in C-sharp Minor_ by Frédéric Chopin


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: In which our leading ladies receive a change of scenery._

* * *

Hermione sat watching Minerva stalk through the Manse, wand waving in agitation as she closed and locked the home's many windows and doors, muttering quietly to herself before sweeping past the drawing room again where Hermione was sitting quietly at the piano, her beaded bag resting around one wrist.

Light footsteps could be heard a moment later... ascending the stairs for the third time in the last fifteen minutes.

Hermione had to bite back a smile at seeing the elegant witch so incredibly flustered, though part of her was pleased that Minerva was taking their journey seriously at all.

They had both woken early and greeted each other in the kitchen around six-thirty, the pink rays of the sun already beginning to cut through the heavy humidity that dipped the rich green landscape into shades of blue. Minerva had already been dressed in her usual grey trousers and white oxford shirt, though Hermione's heart had skipped at seeing the long mane of black hair in a wavy crimped mess about her shoulders. Somehow the witch had still managed to make it look elegant.

Their conversation had been slightly stilted and Minerva had barely touched her toast. Hermione had quickly gathered that the woman was nervous. _It is rather adorable_ , she thought. _That a witch of her caliber and ability should feel anxious about vacationing somewhere new._

Hermione sighed and stood, hearing the return of light footsteps. She intercepted Minerva in the hallway and held up a hand.

"Minerva."

"Yes?"

"I need you to take a breath," Hermione said gently, lips breaking into a wide smile as Minerva looked down at her in confusion. A moment later the thick lashes fluttered and the slightly anxious expression melted as Minerva's lips pressed together slightly and one eyebrow rose.

"This is only an idea. We can always come back," Hermione reminded her, trailing a soft hand over the crisp white fabric of the woman's forearm.

"I'm sure it will be lovely, Hermione," Minerva demurred, stepping backward slightly and giving her a once over. "You're ready?"

"Yes," she replied, hoping it didn't come out too short. "Are you?"

The witch took a breath and nodded, one hand moving to adjust the strap on a rather lovely leather purse that was tucked beneath her right elbow. The light camel color was an unexpected choice, but as Hermione gazed at Minerva, she realized how very elegant and chic the woman appeared.

 _Perfect._

"Very well. Can we Apparate from within the Manse?" Hermione asked, remembering how they had initially arrived at the Manse's the outer gates.

"Yes. The wards will allow us to leave," Minerva replied, lifting her chin slightly and clasping her hands in front of her. Hermione swallowed a small smile at the familiar gesture and stepped forward again, offering her hands for Minerva to take.

The witch seemed to be steadying herself somewhat, but a moment later Hermione's heart trilled when her hands were clasped by long fingers that were surprisingly cool.

"This is going to be a multi-stop journey," Hermione said quietly, watching as Minerva's eyes flicked up toward hers. The witch nodded her understanding.

While she knew rationally that she could probably do it one go, Hermione didn't want to risk the unpleasant side-effects of a long-distance Apparation. Besides, more than one stop meant that she was able to hold onto Minerva's hands for longer.

"Don't let go," Hermione added a bit unnecessarily, widening her stance a bit as Minerva smiled, her eyes softening as she squeezing Hermione's hands lightly.

"I won't."

* * *

Minerva usually hated Side-Along Apparation. (Unless she was doing the work, that is.)

However she had been pleased to discover that Hermione was nearly exacting and precise as she.

They had briefly flashed into the Leaky Cauldron for a moment and Minerva had barely the opportunity to recognize the dreary surroundings and questioning glance from Tom before the image winked out. Somewhat breathless, she had taken in the smell of fresh bread and a bright cobble-stoned alleyway in the next location before they disappeared again.

Finally, they appeared in another narrow alleyway and Minerva had been pleased to feel an instant change in temperature. A cool breeze wound its way around her neck and Hermione had released her hands indicating that they had arrived to wherever it was they were.

Minerva had looked up to see that they were standing in the shadow of a tall stone building, the top of which was spilling over with heavy blossoms of a magenta bougainvillea. The sky above was a deep clear blue with just a few wispy clouds dusting across from it.

She had taken a deep breath, pleased to feel that her stomach and body had managed the trip with little indication that they had traveled anywhere at all. _Five points to Gryffindor._

"Welcome to Saint-Paul-de-Vence, Minerva," Hermione said simply. Minerva smiled at seeing the luminous excitement contained in caramel brown eyes and her heart had melted slightly.

"Come, we have a bit of a walk."

She had been surprised and rather delighted when the young woman had taken her hand confidently, a burst of warmth flooding through her when it became clear that Hermione meant to hold her hand through the entire journey and not just to lead them out of the alleyway.

Now, they were walking hand in hand and the both of them remained silent, a small smile playing around Hermione's lips... and Minerva knew she had to be holding herself back from explaining more about where they were until Minerva asked.

Minerva drank in the rolling hills and rocky cliffs in the distance and the ambiance of the quaint sleepy village. There were a few people walking through the quiet cobble-stoned streets but she noted that the majority of small storefronts were just beginning to light up and open their doors.

The narrow pathways were rather steep, carrying them through the old stone buildings that were accented by beautiful green gardens, courtyards boasting citrus trees, and plenty of old arches boasting more wild curtains of bougainvillea in the customary magenta, but also in bursts of white, orange, and light pink. Signs hanging on wrought iron hooks and painted upon windows indicated that they were somewhere in France, though Minerva imagined they must have arrived somewhere in the south based on the rolling landscape.

Birds chirped in the early morning air which was fresh with the scent of flowers, pine, spice, fresh bread, and a slight tang of salt. Minerva sighed, already feeling herself relax somewhat and she allowed herself a smile.

It _was_ undeniably lovely.

"All right," she murmured, turning to look down at the impish witch who was watching her reactions attentively. Hermione was fairly vibrating in pent-up excitement. "Tell me more about where we are."

Hermione's face broke into a brilliant smile and she laughed lightly before turning into Minerva and pressing herself into Minerva's shoulder for a moment.

"I'm sorry, I know I'm excited! I just can't believe that _you're_ here of all people..." Hermione gushed, surprising Minerva with her words. She lifted a curious eyebrow and Hermione made a face.

"That didn't really come out right. What I _meant_ is that I'm just so pleased that I have the opportunity to share this place with someone as special as you," she amended and Minerva felt her expression soften as Hermione bit her lip and began walking a bit more normally, her eyes looking at the environment fondly.

"My parents used to take me here in the summers," she explained softly, her eyes warm. "We're close to the Côte d'Azur, though a little bit higher than the coast. The sea is about a fifteen minute drive to the south."

Glancing around them, Minerva tried to get her bearings with that tidbit of knowledge but they were ascending a narrow path littered in bright flowerpots and it was the wrong angle to see the surrounding landscape.

"You are sure about being here, Hermione?" Minerva asked after a moment, suddenly aware that the witch had brought her to place likely laced with associations.

Hermione gave her a fond smile and shook her head gently. Her curls were pulled back into a simple ponytail and Minerva found that she missed their unpredictable movement.

"Don't worry about that, Minerva," she replied, her voice low. "I have nothing but good memories from this place and to be honest my parents only took me to St. Paul twice in the years leading up to the War. Throughout my childhood we would come to rent houses in the surrounding area for the summer - they sent me to the same French-immersion program for a number of years, but for most of that time we were in the next town over, La Colle-sur-Loup."

She paused and gestured for them to turn right, pressing close to Minerva as they rounded a corner, avoiding the thick wall of ivy covering the building to their left. An elderly couple walking hand in hand the opposite direction suddenly appeared and Minerva smiled as Hermione murmured a quiet, " _Bon matin._ "

The elderly woman nodded, crinkled eyes flicking down to their joined hands before giving them a fond smile and polite wave before they passed. Unexpectedly, Minerva felt tension unwind from her shoulders at the woman's small gesture as she also discovered how alluring the prospect was of hearing Hermione speak French.

"Anyway," the witch continued, oblivious to Minerva's tangental thoughts. "I haven't _really_ been back here for vacation since after my third-year. I think my parents might have stayed elsewhere in this town at some point, but regardless... the point is that they eventually decided to buy a flat and they managed to find this wonderful little place that we're headed to right now. It was their goal to retire here someday and they received a great deal on the property on a bit of a whim, so..."

Hermione waved a hand and wrinkled her nose.

"Anyway, the flat is mine now," she summarized, giving Minerva a small smile. "It's a beautiful little place, but if you're worried that I have a host of memories attached to it, I do not. I've been here twice - once to visit for a long weekend after my fifth-year and once to help my mother repaint the top floor."

Minerva gazed at Hermione for a moment longer, marveling at the young woman's strength and how easily she spoke of her parents... knowing that it was still such a new and poignant loss in her life.

"Very well," Minerva said softly. "I look forward to seeing it."

Hermione flashed her a smile at that and gave a happy sigh, tugging Minerva's hand a bit as she sped up slightly.

"We're quite close," she murmured, grasping their hands and bringing them up for a moment before changing her grip - long honeyed fingers sliding between Minerva's own and holding her tightly. Caramel eyes gazed up at her for a moment before Hermione bit her lip mischievously. She bent slightly to press a kiss against the back of Minerva's hand.

"Let's go!"

Unable to help it, Minerva's face broke into a wide smile as she eagerly followed, a great swell of happiness bubbling up in her chest even as they turned a corner and stepped into a wider, brightly lit lane.

More people were out, some carrying baskets, some clearly tourists, others on bicycles, others appearing dressed for work.

No one gave them strange looks, approached them for autographs, or shouted strange comments... the anonymity was intoxicating, and if anything - Minerva was surprised when more than one person simply looked at the both of them appreciatively and smiled at their close proximity.

 _Yes, perhaps this is exactly what I needed._

Hermione glanced at her slyly, seeming to divine her thoughts and Minerva simply nudged her lightly and lifted her chin, choosing to stare straight ahead.

"Told you so," Hermione muttered quietly, her voice betraying her smile.

* * *

They arrived to the short staircase ending at the tall forest green door from her memories even as Minerva frowned, clearly unable to fathom why Hermione had stopped at a random curve on the narrow lane.

Looking around and seeing no one in their vicinity, Hermione reached into her beaded bag and quickly passed her a slip of parchment.

"Read this," she instructed.

With the speed of deduction that Hermione found irresistible, Minerva's eyes widened comically and her eyebrows flew up toward her hairline. She looked at the words written and back at Hermione and a moment later toward the space in front of them where it soon became clear that she could see the narrow house make itself known.

"You cast a Fidelius?" Minerva asked in amazement, her Scottish lilt more pronounced as green eyes raked over the building's clean stone façade, white shuttered windows, and window boxes blooming with red gardenias.

"Indeed," Hermione replied with a smile, borrowing the witch's oft-used phrase. Tugging on Minerva's elbow she led them up the short staircase and toward the door, unlocking it with a simple _Alohomora_ and stepping into the quiet space.

Hermione was pleased to note that her charms had held and that everything was still as clean and fresh as she remembered.

"Welcome to Number 3 Rue de Baouques," she said happily, turning to watch Minerva take in the space. From what she could tell, the witch seemed appreciative. Hermione drank in the image of the woman's open features, her still-wavy hair pulled back with a simple tortoiseshell clip, and the small amount of wonder painting the sculpted face. _Beautiful._

"Come, let me give you a tour."

Hermione waved her wand to open the drapes and crack the windows, sighing when she smelled a bit of the fresh air seep into the house.

They were standing just off of the first-floor sitting room to one side of the narrow staircase that led upstairs.

It was a space she didn't anticipate they would use too much, though the cool orange-red stone floors provided a nice respite from the sun on hotter days and the simple white sofa, wood coffee table, and white armchairs were pleasant enough. The roughened walls were a shade somewhere between cream and pale yellow and they were tall and sparsely decorated, leaving room to enjoy the high ceilings and dark exposed-wood beams.

She led them deeper into the house which flowed back into the open dining area and then into the brightly lit kitchen. Minerva followed silently, lips quirked into a small smile as she looked around carefully. The kitchen was one of Hermione's favorite spaces and she said so... indicating that it was a lovely quiet space to read a book and have a cup of tea and that Minerva was free to use anything she pleased.

She led them up the back staircase, pointing out through the little lookout window that one could just see the hazy blue of the sea in the distance, beyond the terra cotta rooftops and rolling green hills.

The staircase opened up into the study area that Hermione eventually intended to turn into a library. The walls were lined with several empty bookshelves that had yet to be filled, and though she had managed to squirrel away her favorite loveseat from her parent's house, it didn't quite match the style of the French architecture. She led Minerva over to the French doors that opened onto a small balcony, pausing to shade her eyes and point out a few landmarks for the witch to use as reference if she ever wanted to walk around the small town without her.

Leading Minerva through the study, Hermione pointed out her own room, a second guest room and the large second-floor bath. They arrived back to the front staircase and Minerva followed her as Hermione led them to the top floor which was Hermione's favorite and the one for which she was most curious to see the reaction.

Similar to the first floor, the top floor was a bit more open in its layout. It was divided in half - the front half comprising the larger informal sitting area that Hermione generally preferred, while the latter half devoted to the master bath and bedroom.

She was pleased when Minerva's eyes raked over the space in appreciation, drinking in the tall blonde shelves that had been filled from top to bottom. A number of books had been her parents', though Hermione had seen fit to add her own section of reference texts and books that hadn't been necessary during her journey with the boys. She blushed when she saw Minerva's eyes zero in on the twenty or so odd texts that she'd collected in regards to Advanced Transfiguration... a number of which she had simply bought after having reached her limit in checking them out of the Restricted Section at Hogwarts.

An elegant eyebrow lifted, but Minerva had said nothing... following silently as Hermione led her down a short hallway, past the master bath and to her own room.

There was a little enclave outside the French doors that opened into the bedroom - a powder area of sorts that held a full-length mirror tilted against one wall, a side table with a drawer that Hermione had charmed to always be full of some sort of snack candy, and a delicate chandelier overhead.

She stepped to one side and gestured for Minerva to go first, the witch giving her a questioning glance before opening the clean white doors with an elegant hand.

Hermione's heart had lifted at seeing the woman's shocked expression and hearing the quiet "oh!" of surprise. Minerva's hand flew to her mouth and she turned back to Hermione, eyebrows already drawing together in dismay.

"No!" Hermione said quickly, holding up a hand to forestall the protests. "I know what you're going to say and I assure you that you are going to stay here. My room is my room. This one is yours."

"Hermione, no... it's far too much, you should really-"

"Minerva."

Hermione interrupted her with a stern glare and was surprised when the witch simply fell silent, sculpted features looking somewhat cowed. Reluctantly Minerva turned back to the space, green eyes raking over the high ceilings and tall windows with obvious pleasure, oblivious to Hermione's amusement and surprise that the witch's own expression had worked against her.

The bedroom was large, beautiful, and full of light which is partially the reason why Hermione wanted Minerva to have it.

While the Manse was lovely, it was also incredibly dark inside which didn't necessarily lend itself to being a space that allowed for relaxation.

The floor was a lovely blonde parquet and the entire space was white, including the high angled ceilings and king-sized bed that rested against the far wall, piled high with luxurious pillows. The wall to the left boasted three tall sets of arched windows, the center set actually being a set of doors that opened to a wide balcony that looked out over the village rooftops and the blue slip of the sea.

Immediately in front of them was a small love-seat and set of chintz chairs, one of which boasted a lightweight throw that Hermione had knitted a few years back.

She smiled as Minerva took a few steps forward, clearly still in the midst of absorbing the smaller details and spectacular view.

"I'll leave you to get settled," Hermione said gently, once again surprised by the low tenor of her own voice. "I was thinking to venture out in about twenty minutes to pick up a few things for dinner, if you'd like to join me?"

Minerva spun, one hand still lingering near her mouth as her eyes softened... and a moment later Hermione was graced with one of the gentler smiles she had ever seen the witch affect and Minerva nodded.

"I would like that," she replied shyly.

Hermione smiled in response and withdrew, chest sizzling with unspoken emotion as she descended the back staircase quietly and set off toward her own room.

It was all going to be worth it.

* * *

Minerva listened contentedly as Hermione chattered away, her hands gesturing slightly as she spoke, the image made somewhat comical by the large sweet potato that the witch was holding in one hand.

They had taken a meandering path to the local supermarket and Minerva had to admit, Saint-Paul-de-Vence was easily rising to be one of the most beautiful places she had ever visited in Europe. Upon arriving to the market, Hermione had immediately taken charge - pulling Minerva down the produce aisle quickly as her long fingers carefully assessed the freshness of tomatoes, herbs, and other assorted vegetables.

Minerva had elected to take the back seat to the proceedings - confessing that cooking had never been one of her specialties to Hermione's immediate amusement. The young woman had rolled her eyes and pressed Minerva aside, insisting that she was more than happy to take care of the both of them for the time being.

She'd experienced a brief surge of disbelief at that... internally somewhat pleased that Hermione enjoyed the entire food preparation process and also delighted the relative ease and domesticity of their conversation and situation.

It was refreshing to simply _be_ a person.

So often Minerva felt inhibited by her name and title... people would react with surprise and disbelief whenever she admitted to the simple daily likes and dislikes, actions, and habits that made her just as human as anyone else. Frequently, she felt that had to resort to, what she considered to be, gratuitous displays of magic simply to excuse herself from anything that caused others to look at her strangely.

Shopping in a market, for instance, was an activity she hadn't partaken in for _years_.

Here however, no one knew that she was a witch.

Her name was not famous and neither was she, and surprisingly... Minerva felt rather freed by it.

They had garnered a few looks as Hermione flitted around the small store, though Minerva was largely convinced it was because they were speaking English... and possibly due to the younger woman's sudden energy buzz.

Hermione seemed to delight in introducing Minerva to St. Paul and she had to admit it was rather endearing.

Minerva turned as the chatter paused for a moment, surprised to find that Hermione had moved to open the door for an elderly gentleman who was entering with a cane and wicker basket.

She had yet to confess that she understood French rather well, though Hermione had _technically_ not asked and Minerva had been content to let her speak for the both of them. Moving out of the way of another customer, she waited, listening our of curiosity to the casual conversation unfolding before her.

 _"Thank you, my dear..."_ the old gentleman huffed, flashing the witch a grateful smile as he adjusted his basket.

 _"Of course, sir."_

 _"It's always so nice to see when you young folk have a sense of manners,"_ the man commented, chuckling lightly as Hermione's eyebrows rose.

Internally, Minerva sniffed. _The French..._

 _"Believe me, I learned from the best,"_ Hermione replied with a smile, eyes flickering over to where Minerva was standing. Her attention caught the older gentleman's and Minerva gave him a gracious head nod as he turned her way.

 _"Ah, well I shan't keep you,"_ he said, tipping his hat toward Minerva. _"Your friend is quite lovely."_

 _"Indeed. I am a lucky woman,"_ Hermione replied easily. She slipped past the older gentleman with a smile and returned to Minerva's side, tugging her elbow slightly.

"Come, I only need a few more things and then we can be on our way."

"What was that about?" Minerva asked, slightly curious as to how Hermione would answer. The witch's last comment had been a surprise and had given her a pleasant rush... _was that a tinge of possessiveness?_

The younger woman shrugged though Minerva noticed a light blush gracing the cheeks. She led them down an aisle with a number of baking supplies and Minerva followed, briefly appreciating the woman's sense of focus.

"Oh nothing. He _did_ say that you were lovely though," Hermione replied after a moment, shooting Minerva a sly smile. She pursed her lips in response, giving Hermione a stern look that just made her chuckle.

"He's not wrong, you know," Hermione quipped, giving Minerva an exaggerated once over that made her shake her head in disbelief. "You _are_ lovely."

Minerva sniffed in response even as Hermione chuckled, waiting silently as Hermione turned and began reading the spice labels with a small smile.

The witch had grown much too impish for her own good.

"That well may be," Minerva said after a moment, pretending to be busy glancing over the shelves. She waited until she felt Hermione's attention upon her before turning to the side swiftly and pressing her lips close to the witch's ear.

"However it is _I_ who am lucky," she whispered softly.

Turning on a heel, Minerva marched back to the front of the store without waiting for a reply, feeling a smirk of satisfaction spread across her features. _That'll teach her who she can tease..._

Her smirk widened when she barely caught the whispered, "Merlin's beard..." resound behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Thank you for the lovely feedback! I always look forward to your thoughts..._

* * *

Minerva was humming quietly to herself and it was driving Hermione to distraction.

The smooth dark tones were laced with a hint of throaty breathiness and the subtle warmth floated between the ambient sounds of the bustling town in a way that made her want to pull the witch aside and kiss her senseless.

 _Merlin! You need to control yourself!_

Hermione bit her lip and found herself hurrying along slightly, putting more distance between the elder witch and herself as they meandered through the cobble-stoned streets, enjoying the early afternoon sunshine and absently searching for a place to eat.

Glancing backwards, her heart stopped for umpteenth time since Minerva had changed.

Their early arrival had left the two of them with a good amount of time to relax and explore. Hermione had taken them to the supermarket close to ten in the morning and given Minerva a short tour of the neighborhood. Afterwards they had returned home and chatted in the kitchen as Hermione had prepared a few things for later while Minerva had watched, sipping her tea quietly and apparently relishing in the different atmosphere that the flat provided.

Now they were out and walking through the center of Saint Paul... pausing whenever they felt the urge to step into some of the smaller boutiques and art galleries and Hermione continued to feel a rush of pleasure at being able to watch Minerva visibly relax to an extent that she had never before witnessed.

The woman was strolling along quietly, hands clasped loosely behind her back, with rose lips curled into a soft smile that Hermione doubted she was even aware of. The sun had quickly brought another wave of heat to the cool hilly village and Minerva had transfigured her clothing into that of a crisp white dress fastened around her slim waist with a simple caramel-colored belt that matched her flats. The dress fell to just below her knee and had short rolled sleeves that capped her narrow shoulders in a bright, crisp manner, while the front buttoned up in the manner of her usual Oxford shirts. Her dark hair was still somewhat wavy though Minerva had braided it absently as they walked and it hung unfastened down her spine, while a few wisps and waves lingered across her forehead.

Against the backdrop of the quaint town, Hermione thought Minerva looked like a movie star.

In contrast, Hermione felt unsure of her more casual appearance. She had elected to wear her sleeveless denim dress again - it had been her mother's once and she liked the simple way it buttoned up the front and hugged her slim body while still remaining relatively comfortable. However, against Minerva's understated elegance she couldn't help but feel a bit childish.

Green eyes flashed towards hers suddenly and Hermione blinked, realizing that Minerva had caught her staring. The taller woman ambled closer and she couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed when the witch stopped humming.

"Are you hungry?" Minerva asked, coming to walk alongside her. Hermione shrugged lightly, noting that the witch seemed to be growing more comfortable with her presence. Their arms brushed gently as they fell into step.

"I think there's a smaller restaurant up the way a bit if you want to look at a menu?" Hermione suggested, lifting her chin toward a diagonal lane toward their left. There were more trees along the sidewalk and the shade appeared inviting.

"That would be nice," Minerva replied, her eyes warm.

A moment later a long arm was wrapping itself around her waist and Hermione flushed in surprise as Minerva pulled her aside to let a mother and her two children pass beside them, tiny voices clamoring for attention as the trio moved to step into a café on the right.

She was surprised to see a rather fond look cross over the witch's face as the children disappeared. A moment later Hermione dropped her focus back toward the cobble-stones, suddenly realizing how very little she knew about the woman next to her. Had Minerva ever been involved in a longer committed relationship? Did she still want a family? Was there anyone in her life that she was interested in?

The woman next to her sighed slightly and Hermione lifted her chin, surprised to see Minerva regarding her with a careful expression. Rose lips parted, but before the woman could speak, another voice drew their attention.

"Hermione!"

She felt a spiral of dread spread through her as she turned, not recognizing the enthusiastic voice.

Squinting slightly in the bright sun, Hermione's brow furrowed as two women suddenly hurried toward them, one lifting a hand in greeting though her face was obscured by a large summer hat.

"Hermione Granger! Oh my gosh, I can't believe it's really _you!_ "

She waited in puzzlement, feeling Minerva draw back slightly as the two figures came closer.

"Elise!" Hermione cried, her mind suddenly recognizing the dark-skinned woman who was fairly skipping toward her in excitement. The woman's face broke into a happy smile and she laughed, one hand coming to hold her hat in place as she threw her head back, the other arm flying wide in an obvious invitation.

The embraced quickly and Hermione was enveloped in a bright floral scent even as her mind worked to recall information about the woman she hadn't seen in... _wow,_ _nearly ten years._

"Oh my gosh! How are you? What are you doing here? You look _amazing!_ " Hermione gushed before stepping back, drinking in the elegant figure wrapped in a navy and white-striped dress, her dark lips painted a vivid shade of crimson.

"What am _I_ doing here? What are _you_ doing here? What is it, eight years since you dropped out of _Villefranche-sur-Mer_?" Elise replied, her hands gesturing with wild abandon. Hermione grinned and shook her head.

"I ended up having busy summers once I started boarding school," she explained, waving a hand impatiently before giving her old friend a smile. " _Merde..._ it's good to see you!"

Elise smiled and rolled her eyes even as the blond woman next to her sniffed lightly at Hermione's casual use of the expletive. Her blue eyes were warm and she reminded Hermione a bit of Fleur.

"Oh gosh, I'm the worst! Forgive my manners," Elise said, stepping back to press her friend forward slightly. "Hermione Granger, je te présente mon... ami, Julie Maillard."

Hermione noted how the blonde woman seemed to flush lightly at the introduction and Elise's subtle pause before the word "friend." She murmured a quiet _enchantée,_ before turning... holding out a hand to include Minerva who had stepped back slightly to give her space.

"C'est mon compagnon, Minerva," Hermione said, smiling with pride as the witch leaned forward slightly and gave both young women a demure handshake. She didn't miss how Elise's eyes flashed in interest at her use of the word "companion," nor how the witch seemed to sidle closer to her in response.

They stood for another moment in the sunny lane as Hermione explained that she and Minerva were on holiday together, though she purposefully avoided mentioning that they were staying in Saint Paul specifically, selfishly wanting to keep her time with Minerva a secret from the world.

Elise and Julie indicated that they were spending time at Julie's parents' summer home farther to the east and it seemed that they had met while studying together in Paris. Hermione hadn't been surprised. Elise had been one of her closest friends at the French immersion program they had participated in all through childhood, and even as a young girl, Elise had made no secret about wanting to leave her home in London for the glamour and atmosphere of Paris as soon as she was old enough.

They spoke in half-French half-English for a bit longer and Minerva had gracefully managed to evade questions about the nature of her relationship to Hermione while both Julie and Elise had appeared to regard her with a bit of awe. Hermione had been delighted to hear Minerva speak a bit of French, at one point inquiring as to the two women's professions which had revealed that they were both still in University with Elise studying French literature and Julie studying European history.

Hermione noted how her friend seemed to angle toward Julie unconsciously and she smirked inwardly as it became clear how infatuated with the Frenchwoman Elise seemed to be.

After a few more minutes of chatter, Hermione interrupted the conversation to give their regrets, making up an excuse that she and Minerva had reservations for lunch. She and Elise hugged briefly and she took her friend's contact information in stride, promising to give the woman a call if she was ever in Paris.

As they strode away, Hermione sighed slightly... taking Minerva's hand unconsciously as she recovered from the unexpected encounter - happy to have seen her friend and also a bit flustered at having been recognized in the one place she hadn't planned on seeing or knowing anyone at all. A moment later she was looking over at Minerva with a jolt, realizing just how quickly she had invaded the witch's personal space without so much as a thought about it.

Green eyes simply regarded her curiously and a moment later Minerva squeezed her hand slightly, readjusting to thread their fingers together as they continued on without a word.

Hermione felt her lips break into a soft smile... touched at the silent gesture and more than a little delighted at how easily Minerva had begun to open.

 _Maybe this will work..._

* * *

The small restaurant they chose was quite lovely and Minerva sat back, feeling rather loose-limbed and relaxed as she tilted her head upward slightly to enjoy the dappled sunshine streaming down from above.

 _She was right you know... you do feel better._

Hermione was sitting across the table, brows drawn together slightly as she deliberated over the menu. One honeyed hand was rubbing the base of the thin glass of Pastis absently and Minerva couldn't help the rush of affection she felt for the young woman.

She watched quietly as the witch poured a bit more of the hard liqueur into her glass, the liquid gaining an opaque color as Hermione swirled it in the chilled glass.

"Something amusing?"

Hermione was looking at her with a raised eyebrow, her lips curling in a familiar half-smile that was both impish and a little sultry.

"Not at all. Just enjoying the company," Minerva replied, sipping her own apéritif carefully. The chilled anise bloomed across her tongue, sending a sharp tingle through her sinuses and she hummed lightly in appreciation. She'd tried Pastis once, a long time ago in her twenties but had found the alcohol far too strong for her taste.

Hermione had insisted they be served the traditional way - a shot full of the liqueur, a glass of chilled ice that smoked lightly in the noon heat, and a pitcher of water. She then encouraged Minerva to experiment with blending - smiling at the delighted expression that had undoubtedly crossed her face when the liqueur became milky with the addition of water.

The younger woman regarded her with a small smile and a raised eyebrow that belied her disbelief at Minerva's comment, but rather than inquire she simply leaned back and reclined in her chair, a thread of sunshine spilling across her chest. Minerva could just see the outline of delicate collarbones beneath the denim collar and with a flush of heat, she imagined unbuttoning the top snaps a bit more to gain access to the woman's delicious décolletage.

"Your friend was quite lovely," Minerva said conversationally, turning her thoughts away from exposed skin and toward the two women they had encountered in the street not long before.

She had felt a bit of Hermione's tension at the unexpected encounter and the way the young woman appeared to struggle with holding a conversation with the Muggle woman. It was a sad fact for many Muggle-borns that as life in the Magical world became more involved, former ties to the Muggle world became more and more difficult to endure. It seemed perhaps, that Hermione was beginning to learn that now.

"Elise was my closest friend in our immersion program. We were roommates every summer for several years," Hermione replied, smiling softly as she remembered. One hand drifted up to brush away a stray curl absently and the woman sniffed lightly in amusement as Minerva tilted her head in question.

"I used to have quite the crush on her," Hermione admitted, shaking her head slightly as she chuckled. A long arm reached for her glass while Minerva absorbed that piece of information quietly, sipping on her drink again as she considered how to respond.

"She is still quite pretty," she offered, even as a flash of jealousy spread through her. Hermione gave her a startled look before rolling her eyes dramatically.

"Right," she scoffed. "If she wasn't clearly infatuated with her friend Julie, I'm sure we could make a wonderful couple."

Minerva's eyebrows rose in surprise at the sarcastic aside even as Hermione tossed a hand in her direction, her features drawing into an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry, that was harsh of me, Minerva," Hermione said quietly, her gaze falling somewhere in between the table and Minerva's left hand that was resting on the edge. "I suppose it was just surprising to be caught off guard in the one place that I'd hoped to remain anonymous."

"Perhaps all things happen for a reason, Hermione," Minerva replied after a moment, choosing her words carefully. "While unexpected, it's always a pleasant surprise to learn something new about you."

"Such as the fact that I'm a raging lesbian?"

Minerva's cheeks flushed in response to the blunt comment and she felt a flash of irritation as Hermione chuckled, her expression somewhat bitter. Minerva cocked her chin slightly feeling one eyebrow rise in disapproval before recrossing her legs at the ankles and taking another moment to settle.

"I would not have phrased it like that," she replied softly, wondering where the witch's rather acerbic mood had come from. "I suppose I'd rather always assumed that you intended to make a go of things with Mr. Weasley, anyway. You seemed rather close at the end of the War."

Hermione sat back slightly and fixed her with a thoughtful gaze, her sudden flash of ire apparently spent for the moment. A moment later she sighed and her expression softened.

"I think perhaps I spent a good deal of time attempting to convince myself that I could be attracted to men," she said quietly even as her amber gaze grew pensive.

"I love Ron and Harry as friends. Perhaps deeper than friends in some ways - maybe more like family. They will always be close to me and for a time, yes, I think I thought that I desired more from Ron in particular. But it's become quite clear to me that neither of them can satisfy what I want... on more than one level."

Hermione's gaze drifted away slightly, watching passers-by absently as her expression grew melancholy.

"I suppose I'm just beginning to realize who it is that I'm looking for," she finished softly, her gaze faltering slightly. "Though I can't imagine I would have anything to offer them."

Minerva suddenly felt frozen, at once desperately curious to hear more and fearful of what Hermione would say. The witch's quiet words seemed to echo her own unspoken thoughts and while she had felt a flash of desire and hope at hearing that the witch was admittedly _also_ attracted to women, she was terrified that Hermione already harbored feelings for someone else... someone who was not her.

Suddenly, Minerva wasn't sure that she could bear to hear confirmation of that fact.

"And you, Minerva?"

She looked up sharply to find Hermione staring at her with a quiet smile.

"What are you looking for?"

The quiet redirection of the conversation send a sharp flash of panic through her and Minerva avoided the question for a moment by sipping her drink. The alcohol flooded her tastebuds and seemed to dull them in a way that felt relaxing and supportive.

"I s'pose I consider myself beyond such notions of companionship," she replied truthfully, thinking back to Hogwarts and the looming nature of her new appointment.

With a sad smile Minerva realized that it was already Saturday... and there was only one more week left before she would be expected to don her emerald robes and resume the post that, to put it simply, threatened to consume the next several decades of her life.

"Minerva," Hermione chided quietly. "Just because you will be taking up the mantel of Headmistress doesn't mean that you have to resign yourself to a life alone."

"Mmm, it doesn't?" she replied archly. Suddenly irate, Minerva leaned forward, "Tell me, when do you believe I will have time to find a suitable partner? In between staff meetings and detentions? Through listings in the Prophet? During the summer holidays?"

She sniffed. "My dear, _nothing_ in my world is conducive to sharing my life with someone else."

Hermione glared at her for a moment before knocking back her Pastis and setting it on the table with a firm hand.

"Well with an attitude like that, I'd imagine not," she snapped in reply. A moment later, the amber gaze softened and Hermione leaned forward to place a long hand on the table between them.

"Minerva. Despite your own perceptions of yourself, you are an intelligent, strong, powerful, not to mention _beautiful_ woman. I _mean it_ when I say that there's a witch out there who will be lucky to have you," she said firmly. "Don't give up on yourself just yet. I'm not planning on it, and neither should you."

 _The one witch I want... and I can't have her..._

Minerva ducked her head slightly, eyes growing moist in a combination of longing and genuine surprise at Hermione's kind words.

"The same is true of you, Hermione," Minerva replied softly, willing her features to mould themselves into a pleasant expression. "You will bring great happiness to the witch lucky enough to have you."

Reaching out with her own hand, Minerva pressed her fingers against Hermione's, reveling in the momentary warmth and the way the younger witch's face seemed to light up at the gesture.

A moment later Hermione's nose wrinkled adorably and she chuckled, leaving Minerva slightly bereft as her fingers quickly withdrew and scrubbed over her face rather indelicately.

"Merlin, we are being such a sorry pair right now," Hermione laughed, pinning Minerva with a lopsided smile.

Though she wanted to remain firmly entrenched in the hard, cold embrace of reality, Minerva found herself softening as Hermione continued to gaze at her fondly, biting one lip and shaking her head for a moment before falling back in her chair with a sigh and stretching languorously.

Chestnut curls caught the sunshine and flushed with shades of gold and orangey-caramel even as Hermione's denim dress was pulled tight against her breasts, suddenly revealing quite clearly that the young woman was not wearing a bra.

Minerva averted her gaze quickly, stemming the warm flush through her body even as she chuckled. They _were_ being rather fatalistic.

"Shall we order?" she supplied, glancing around the outdoor terrace of the restaurant.

A waiter was busy a few tables away and she hummed in annoyance when it became clear that the table he was attending had quite a number of questions about the menu. _Bloody annoying..._

The quiet stillness across from her pulled her attention and Minerva turned back to find Hermione with her elbows propped on the table, chin resting atop her hands as she gazed at Minerva with a rather dreamy smile.

"Thank you," the witch whispered. It seemed as though she had been waiting for Minerva to turn. Hermione was sitting forward so that the sun fell across her hair like a halo, her timeless features thrown into shadow which suddenly made caramel eyes seem much more full and dark.

"What?" Minerva asked, not understanding the non sequitur.

"Thank you for agreeing to come here, Minerva," Hermione breathed, lips curling into a smile as her eyes traced over Minerva's face in a soft manner that made her want to squirm. _Merlin, squirm? Really? Get a hold of yourself._

She sighed in response, an eyebrow rising in disbelief as Minerva leaned forward... telling herself it had nothing to do with wanting to breathe in the woman's fresh scent nor glimpse evidence of the light sprinkling of freckles across Hermione's features.

"Hermione, it is _I_ who should be thanking _you_ ," she replied softly, her chest suddenly full of emotion. "I can't imagine what ever possessed you to share such a special place with me, but please believe me when I say that I am most grateful."

Her eyes watched as peach lips curled lightly before the bottom lip was suddenly seized by bright white teeth. Hermione tilted her cheek and lowered her gaze shyly.

"It was an easy decision, Minerva. There's no one else I would share it with," she whispered... so softly that Minerva found herself leaning forward even more to catch the quiet words.

Confusion flooded through her for a moment... _she couldn't possibly mean...? What sort of statement is that?_

Dark eyes flicked up to meet hers and Minerva's body suddenly flashed with heat... recognizing the appreciation, care, and affection... but catching a hint of something different...

Darker, more alluring.

 _That can't be... desire?_

Before she could make sense of what she had just witnessed, they were interrupted - a clean white sleeve passing into her field of vision even as Minerva struggled to suddenly make sense of the stream of rapidly spoken French being issued into one ear.

The elusive waiter chose that moment to make his return and Minerva was suddenly sitting back, thoughts disjointed even as Hermione managed a breezy reply in beautifully accent-free French.

Minerva felt alternately hot and cold... her mind replaying snippets of their conversation... the way Hermione had introduced her as her companion to her friend Elise... the subtle shift in their physical connection over the last two days... the way the witch had flirted with her playfully in the supermarket and even before... perhaps she had been flirting at the pools in Skye?

She managed to order quickly before draining the rest of her Pastis in one go, suddenly unable to organize and contain her roiling thoughts.

Hermione excused herself to use the restroom and Minerva found herself staring at the empty chair, her emotions spiraling out of control as her thoughts pulsed with one single question.

 _Oh Merlin, what is happening?_

* * *

Hermione had taken it in stride when Minerva left the flat in the late afternoon.

Intuitively, she knew that the witch was more accustomed to being on her own than most people, and it was something that Hermione didn't begrudge her. Minerva was also extremely independent and self-assured. She liked to discover things for herself and unravel new mysteries and puzzles... it seemed only natural that the woman would want to take the opportunity to explore her surroundings in her own way.

Not only that, but Hermione knew that she had given Minerva rather large dose of personal information at lunch... and if the woman's slight withdrawal had been any indication, there were things she needed to work out for herself.

The restaurant they had chosen had been remarkable and Hermione had been pleased to see Minerva enjoying her meal of Ratatouille Niçoise with fervent appreciation. Somehow she imagined that the witch rarely had the time to appreciate her meals... and, if their time at Hogwarts was any indication, she could be just as bad as Hermione about remembering to eat them at all.

Afterward they had taken a meandering path back to the flat, stopping at one point to peek into a small clothing boutique that both of them had liked - more to Hermione's surprise at discovering that Minerva McGonagall actually enjoyed shopping. The witch had indicated that her mother had become a rather adept seamstress after marrying her father, a Muggle minister with the Kirk. It remained unspoken that Isobel Ross had given up her wand in exchange for marriage, though from Minerva's short story, it seemed that her mother had managed to infuse her energy into the art of tailoring... an interest that had also rubbed off on Minerva.

The day had eventually grown quite hot and despite the breeze winding through the hills they had both elected to return to the flat and regroup before making a plan for the evening.

Minerva had disappeared upstairs for a while and Hermione had absently begun continuing her preparations for dinner. She imagined they would likely eat late... once the sun had set and the heat cooled off, though the task of cooking was enjoyable to her and she felt more confident and comfortable about it now that they were on her turf, so to speak.

Eventually Minerva had ghosted into the kitchen around four-thirty and politely announced that she was going to go out and explore a bit further. Something in the statement had felt like a request and Hermione had smiled in response, finding it endearing... and admittedly a bit strange that the witch felt the need to ask her permission at all.

That had been a little over an hour and a half ago and Hermione began cleaning up her mess, satisfied that the dishes were prepared to satisfaction for the time being.

Sighing, she wiped her brow absently and realized that she had managed to swipe a bit of flour on her face. _Bollocks._

A glance out the window indicated that the sun was growing low and beginning to stream in through the yellow and blue flowered curtains in a way that was quickly becoming irritating.

Murmuring a few more cleaning charms, Hermione gave one last glance around the kitchen, satisfied that everything was back in its place.

She headed upstairs, closing a few of the curtains as she went in an effort to keep out the last of the heat.

The flat was quite silent, though unlike the Manse, the sunny atmosphere seemed to infuse the entire house with a lazy sort of energy that felt genuinely peaceful - like summer epitomized.

She arrived to the second floor and quickly adjourned to her room. While considerably smaller than Minerva's, Hermione had liked it from the start. It was painted a pale shade of blue that distantly reminded her of the drawing room at the Manse. The ceiling was white and crossed by dark wood beams that gave the space a clean, cool feeling.

The large bed wasn't quite as lavish as the master, but Hermione preferred it that way - liking the simple white sheets and soft woven throw that spilled over the end. The bed was tucked beneath a bank of windows that didn't necessarily have the greatest view - they opened above the adjoining houses and terra cotta rooftops, though she liked the view for its simplicity and for the simple enjoyment of the Romantic ambiance it seemed to provide.

It made her think of French movies and the thrill of adventure as she imagined climbing across the different rooftops - scaling them at night or bounding between open-air terraces, perhaps in search of a secret midnight tryst.

Hermione chuckled to herself as she began to peel off her clothes. _That's what you get for watching too many movies and reading too many books._

She pulled her hair out of its ponytail and passed a hand through the damp curls, wrinkling her nose at feeling how hot her scalp seemed. Stripping off her underwear she quietly padded to the bathroom, flicking her wand to turn the shower to a lukewarm temperature before setting it next to the sink. The cool tile felt like a balm to her hot feet and Hermione waited for a moment before pulling back the shower curtain, wincing slightly as the spray caught her naked body.

The shower hung above a large, white claw-footed bathtub and Hermione gingerly stepped in... shivering as the cooler water hit her heated flesh, even as she mused over their conversation at lunch.

The passing thoughts of romance immediately brought her to thinking about Minerva.

 _You love her..._

Hermione hadn't voiced it in so many words, but there had been a thread of understanding winding its way across Minerva's features in the moment right before the waiter came to take their order at lunch.

Looking back, Hermione couldn't tell if it had simply been the moment - sitting across from the woman who looked so utterly gorgeous and kissable and everything that she had ever wanted... or a sudden surge of her Gryffindor courage... but Hermione's tongue had gotten away from her and somehow, it seemed, she had let quite a bit of her own feelings slip out into the open space between them.

As always, Minerva had recovered admirably and if Hermione hadn't been paying close attention, she would have almost certainly missed the flash of incredulity, insecurity, and desire cross the luminous features. A moment later they were all gone - buried beneath the woman's unflappable mask of calm and Hermione had sat back, resigning herself to inevitable retreat that happened whenever Minerva had bitten off more than she could handle.

 _But there's something **there**._

Before she could turn her thoughts to the possibilities, Hermione frowned at realizing she had forgotten her favorite shampoo... clambering out of the tub for a moment to grab her wand and _Accio_ her soap from her beaded bag.

Stepping back into the water, she waited and a moment later the familiar bottle came zooming into the room. She caught it with a slippery hand - simultaneously catching her reflection in the mirror and snorting at how utterly ridiculous she appeared - naked, holding a wand, and catching a bottle of shampoo.

 _If only she could see you now._

Setting her wand on a tiled shelf, she scooped some of the shampoo in her hands, taking a moment to inhale the reassuring scent of lily of the valley.

"What do I do?" Hermione whispered. Talking to herself sometimes helped.

 _All right. It's clear you love her..._

"But does she return my feelings?"

Her thoughts replayed what she had witnessed at lunch... and the memories over the last several days.

Hermione frowned... attempting to imagine Minerva patiently teaching a piano duet to someone else - anyone else really... let alone sitting with them for hours in one of her favorite locations in Scotland... or washing and trimming their hair?

She made a face. _There's literally no one else that she would ever do that for..._

All of those moments and actions seemed to indicate that Minerva saw Hermione as a close friend. All right, a _very_ close friend. And then there had been the smattering of compliments... and one or two lingering glances.

Admittedly, Hermione knew that the witch didn't get out much, but she couldn't help but feel hopeful that Minerva hadn't quite been able to conceal the fact that she found Hermione attractive. In fact, there had been several times when she had almost been _assured_ that Minerva was averting her gaze because she found Hermione distracting.

The thought gave her a small thrill and Hermione shivered in pleasure before shifting to rinse out her hair.

However, though a number of her own comments had been playful... she couldn't help but notice how Minerva seemed to avoid responding to her more overt advances.

 _Why? If she's interested, why not show it?_

Hermione thought back to their conversation at lunch again. She stood in the stream of cool water for a long moment before suddenly an epiphany struck her and she nearly grinned as her mind zeroed in on the issue.

 _She's afraid._

Good Godric, and Hermione could understand why.

Hell, the woman had all but laid her cards on the table at lunch...

"And it's taken you this long to even realize it!" Hermione hissed, smacking her fist against the wall in irritation.

"Fuck!"

Hand smarting, Hermione grabbed her wand and summoned another bottle, opening it violently and beginning to scrub her skin with a vengeance.

"She's convinced she's past her prime! That no one could ever possibly understand or even _want_ to be with her just on account of her job!" Hermione continued, moving down her legs to spread the fragrant salt over her knees and calves. "Not to mention she's probably afraid to date a former student... which essentially rules out half of Great Britain!"

 _Damn it all to hell!_

Hermione stewed for another moment, incensed that she had missed something so _critically_ important to the woman she loved.

If there was any chance of wooing Minerva, it would mean proving that she understood enough about the witch's life to merit her taking a chance... it would mean showing the witch that she was not only desirable, but that their age difference was of little consequence, and _most importantly_ that Hermione's love would never be predicated on forcing Minerva to choose between Hogwarts and herself... and that Minerva was _worth_ the balance... and that even the Headmistress of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin First Class, Most Powerful Witch of her Age deserved the opportunity for happiness.

Hermione paused, a few tears trickling from her eyes and mixing with the falling water, realizing that she was breathing rather quickly and her cheeks were flushed with the force of her feelings.

Drawing a deep breath, Hermione nodded to herself and began to smile.

 _You can do this... because that's honestly what you believe and how you feel._

She took another breath, suddenly feeling much more calm and reassured.

There was no doubt in her mind that this was going to be one of the greatest challenges she had ever faced.

But at the same time, Hermione was utterly convinced that she could succeed.

Hermione grabbed her wand again, a small smirk coloring her lips as she murmured a few choice spells that would... er, tidy things up a bit. _It never hurts to be prepared._

One thing was for certain.

Minerva McGonagall had no idea what was coming.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Thanks for reading!_

* * *

The sky was blooming in shades of salmon and orange by the time Minerva found herself turning the curve to return to the flat. There were far more tourists bustling about the small town that she had expected and she was somewhat relieved to be retreating indoors for the time being.

As she ascended the stone steps Minerva was dismayed by how sticky she felt. It seemed there was simply no escape from the heat, even in the rolling hills of the Côte D'azur.

Slipping into the flat she noted that all was quiet. The drapes were drawn slightly and the windows firmly shut seeming to indicate that Hermione had either stepped out or was simply attempting to stave off the heat through conventional Muggle means.

Minerva felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach as she took the front stairs up toward the third floor. Her brief foray into the surrounding area had given her more peace of mind, and had also presented her with an unexpected gift for Hermione that she hoped would be well-received.

It had taken her the better part of forty-minutes to communicate her wishes to the store-owner, and even with some carefully murmured Translation charms and one quick Obliviate, Minerva had felt rather frazzled upon leaving the large studio shop.

Stepping into the informal sitting area she quickly cast her eyes over the space.

The French doors to the right led out into a small balcony overlooking the lane below and the area before it was decorated with a square coffee table, two couches, a chaise lounge, and a chintz chair. The far wall was covered in generous open bookshelves stacked artfully with books and assorted trinkets that she assumed had been Hermione's parents'... and the wall to the left also had a bookshelf, though there was a space in the corner that currently had nothing.

 _Perhaps there, out of the way of the sun._

The sound of a door closing below indicated that Hermione was indeed home, and Minerva's lips curved into a smirk.

Opening her leather purse she removed the desired gift and swiftly moved to place it in the corner, angled to hug the left wall a bit more closely. Stepping back she began the process of enlarging it, careful not to let her gift scratch the floor as it grew.

A moment later she smiled, pleased that the color and size seemed to fit the room rather well. It wasn't a baby grand, but the beautiful upright piano seemed to tuck itself into the space as if it had always been there. Minerva waved the accompanying bench into place and enlarged it as well, opening it and banishing a number of quality music books into the storage place beneath the seat for good measure.

She paused to cast a _Muffliato_ , moving over to play a few scales and ensure the instrument was tuned properly. The new ivory keys were so sensitive... they responded to her touch immediately and Minerva was pleased when she only had to tune the highest notes. Such drastic adjustments to such a beautiful and delicate instrument could often go awry.

Canceling the charm, Minerva turned... listening for a moment as she wondered whether or not to show the gift to Hermione now or later. Part of her wanted to shower and change, but she bit her lip as she knew that Hermione enjoyed sitting on the third floor and would perhaps come across the piano while she was away.

 _There is no time like the present. Besides, you wanted to see her reaction._

Minerva vanished her purse to her room and sat down on the bench, adjusting it sightly as she took in the piano's light ivory finish and ornate carvings on the music stand that had made her fall in love with the instrument from the window. Smiling again, she shifted to press her right foot against the pedal... wracking her mind for a moment to come up with the perfect piece to entice her witch to come upstairs.

 _Your witch?_

Minerva ignored her inner monologue and began to play, deciding on a piece by Liszt that seemed to echo a bit of her mood. The effusive melody began to paint itself upon the air and despite her enjoyment, she bit back a grin at hearing a door slam below and the quiet patter of footsteps coming up the stairs.

She lifted her elbows, pleased at how readily the piano responded to her touch... drawing a sensuality from the flickering notes that felt earnest, alive, and fiery. She fluttered through the fast rolling ascensions, pressing her weight into the octaves and chords with impassioned strength - already feeling her heartbeat speed up to match the rapturous flow of the melody.

Her Animagus senses immediately ascertained the moment Hermione stepped into the room. The sweet scent began to grow in purchase even as she continued playing, feeling the young woman draw closer.

Hermione suddenly slid onto the stool at her right, overwhelming Minerva with more sensory information than she could handle.

Her mind shuddered to a grinding halt as Minerva realized that Hermione was dressed in only a towel... _a short one!_

... And that her curls were hanging wet about her shoulders.

Her hands missed a few keys and that was enough to bring Minerva back, throwing herself into the descending scales as the piece took on a decidedly softer and more intimate tone... her senses full of the witch's light scent and warm skin.

Minerva willed herself to infuse her hands with the tenderness she longed to shift to the body next to her, letting her fingers skim and caress with careful attention... lips parted as her torso rippled lightly, coaxing the sweet music from the piano in a light way that began to carry her toward an organic end.

It was delicious...

Smooth...

Titillating...

She let her eyes flutter shut on the last subtle chords, enjoying their weight... the satisfaction of music mixing in with her feelings and a more than a good dose of tightly-contained desire.

A moment later her eyes flew open as Hermione embraced her fervently, wet hair pressed against her right breast and shocking the skin beneath as water suddenly soaked though the front of her dress with a cool touch.

"Thank you," a light voice whispered and Minerva felt herself go rigid as bare arms snaked their way slowly around her neck, suddenly realizing that the only thing between her and Hermione's naked body was a loosely tied slip of white terry-cloth towel.

"You are most welcome," she managed, mentally cringing as her voice came out somewhat breathless. Hermione seemed content to rest into the quiet embrace and Minerva's hands rose to tentatively wrap around the young woman's body, jolting slightly when her palms encountered the warm skin of Hermione's shoulder-blades.

"Do you like it?" Minerva whispered, already certain of the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.

Hermione burrowed deeper, pressing herself against Minerva in a slightly undulating manner that forced her to bite her bottom lip fiercely as the small form snaked its way closer. Soft lips suddenly pressed into the side of her neck and Minerva jumped, feeling a bolt of pleasure go straight to her groin.

"I love it," Hermione whispered in reply... the soft vibrations so close to her neck immediately sending a wave of wetness into her knickers and Minerva drew in a deep inhale, nodding as she attempted to pull back and regain her composure.

"Then I am glad," she said, pulling away to see Hermione's caramel eyes full of gratitude and more evidence of that inky darkness that quickly had her scooting back and away... rising as her hands fumbled with each other for a moment before one fell upon the top of the piano.

"I... uh... rather thought the color would go well in here," Minerva said desperately, gesturing to the room at large. "It seemed a shame that there should be no outlet for your beautiful music."

 _Good Godric, you have been reduced to babbling._

"Thank you, Minerva," Hermione replied, gazing at the piano lovingly as one hand rose to stroke the keys gently. "It's perfect."

Minerva nodded in reply, lips snapping shut before she embarrassed herself further. Her cheeks burned and she tried to control the sudden erratic rise and fall of her chest. The lull in the conversation gave room for an exit and Minerva made to turn, stopping as Hermione asked a question.

"What was the piece you just played?" she asked curiously.

Internally, Minerva cursed...

"Liebestraum number three by Franz Liszt. It's often called 'Desiderata'," she said with forced calm, watching as Hermione nodded thoughtfully.

 _Because you couldn't have chosen a piece without a suggestive title, you fool!_

The younger witch rose, seemingly unfazed that her towel had slipped slightly and was in grave danger of dropping below acceptable levels. Minerva felt flushed and unsteady, her throat parched, and she pressed a hand against the side of the piano for balance as Hermione stepped out from the piano bench and brought them closer together...

"I enjoyed it... it was rather... _erotic._ "

A moment later Hermione smiled gently and moved away, already heading for the front staircase purposefully, one hand rising to rein in her wet ropey locks.

Minerva turned, moving stiffly as she floated down the short hallway toward the bedroom as if in a dream...

She felt positively _high_... feverish. Out of her body.

 _Merlin's beard, Minerva. This **cannot** continue. No matter what you think you see in her eyes..._

Moving into the spacious bathroom, Minerva flicked on the tap and began to flood the shower with ice cold water.

* * *

The evening had cooled down rather rapidly and Hermione was utterly content as she and Minerva sat on the large balcony outside Minerva's rooms as they watched the heavy red orb sink below the distant horizon. The sky was rather hazy and had quickly taken on a deep periwinkle tinge as the first star appeared almost directly overhead.

Minerva's unexpected and thoughtful gift had thrilled her to no end... and internally, Hermione had nearly swooned at the woman's generosity - surprised, yes... and emboldened as the gesture served to underscore all of her thoughts in the shower.

Minerva cared for her... a great deal.

If that wasn't the foundation for love and trust, she didn't know what was.

The witch's response to her rather unseemly outfit had also given her a great deal of information. Though a flustered Minerva was light-years more controlled than the average person, Hermione had been giddy when the witch seemed taken aback by her state of dress... distracted, even... in a good way.

She had seen a flash of those green eyes - wide in shock, yes... but glazed over in a way that seemed to suggest that Minerva McGonagall had been rather aroused. Hermione longed to witness it further and had quietly begun plotting... unbeknownst to the witch before her that her plan was already in motion.

Currently, those green eyes were rather distant... staring off beyond the rooftops as the witch sat quietly, ankles crossed in her typical ladylike fashion and long hands folded limply in her lap.

"Knut for your thoughts?" Hermione asked, smiling at how quickly the question had become their regular turn-of-phrase.

It seemed to rouse Minerva from her internal musings and the witch smiled in reply, eyes flicking to Hermione's for a moment before she reached for her glass of wine.

"Just the musings of an old woman, my dear," Minerva replied, settling back and taking her wine with her.

"Minerva, I don't like to sound like a broken record. But you are far from old," Hermione replied patiently, lifting her wand to conjure a few floating candles even as she cast a Disillusionment charm over the balcony.

Clear eyes flicked upward in appreciation and Minerva sighed softly, lips curving into a sad smile.

"You do not need to assuage my concerns, Hermione," she replied, opening her mouth to continue and then stopping abruptly as Hermione held up a hand.

"I'm not assuaging anything, _my dear_ ," Hermione replied forcefully, causing Minerva to sit back slightly. "I am telling you a truth. Everyone in our world knows that witches and wizards age differently than Muggles. You are reading far too much into your Muggle half, and where sixty-three is middle-aged in the Muggle world, you're still just reaching your prime in ours. Anyway, we both know that you look like you're in your early forties. Maybe late thirties when you're not wearing your teaching robes."

Minerva's lips curled slightly at the last quip and she shook her head, sniffing sadly before turning her gaze back out over the hazy rooftops.

"Who in their right mind would be interested in starting a relationship with the Headmistress of Hogwarts?" she asked quietly, clearly expecting the question to remain rhetorical.

"I would," Hermione replied simply, setting down her glass. "And self-pity does not become you, Minerva."

That brought Minerva up short and she stared, open-mouthed at Hermione in a manner that made her want to simultaneously laugh, cry, and shake the woman sitting across from of her.

Sighing instead, Hermione sat back and folded her arms.

"I would," she repeated. "I'm not saying that to be kind, I'm speaking to you as a witch who knows what she wants and is telling you that you offer everything and more."

Minerva's lips thinned and she shook her head solemnly even as she set her glass on the table.

"Hermione, you do not know what you are saying," she replied in a low voice. Hermione lifted an eyebrow.

"Just what is it that you think I'm saying?" she retorted smoothly.

Minerva pinned her with a wounded expression and gave a small sigh.

"I... am accepting the role of Headmistress, Hermione. That alone should be enough of a deterrent for half of the sane population of witches," Minerva said, her Scottish brogue gaining a slight edge to it.

"I can't fathom why you would ever entertain the thought of entering into a relationship with someone who would force you to choose between Hogwarts and themselves," Hermione replied calmly, leaving the intimation unspoken. Minerva blinked and Hermione pressed on.

"However, I understand why that is a significant concern. You spend nine months out of the year at Hogwarts. You're a prominent figure in the eyes of the public. Logic dictates that a relationship would be best served by someone who has experience with public scrutiny, who also feels a strong connection to the school... and who also has aspirations for affecting change at the secondary level."

Minerva's eyebrows drew together slightly and Hermione waited, noting how the witch's eyes had flashed at the mention of her unspoken aspirations for teaching. While she would have preferred to keep those two arguments separate, eventually Hermione knew that she would have to tell Minerva that she wanted to pursue a Mastery in Transfiguration.

A moment later, Minerva pursed her lips, her jaw setting in a way that made her nervous.

"Why do I get the feeling that you have a number of arguments prepared, Hermione?"

Minerva's voice was maddeningly calm and Hermione felt the clipped tones ruffle her patience.

"Why do I get the feeling that you are leaving out the most important facet of this discussion, Minerva?" Hermione asked pointedly, lifting an eyebrow. "What about our feelings?"

Immediately the witch was shaking her head, her expression growing steely.

"Hermione... we cannot -"

"Cannot have this conversation? Why not?"

"It's wrong! It is... _improper!_ You're... you're..." Minerva gestured wildly and Hermione realized that the witch was getting emotional in a way that wasn't helping her argument.

"Too young?" Hermione supplied softly, cutting into Minerva's rising tones with her quiet question. Though it was her first impulse to get up and shout at the woman across from her she knew that it wasn't the way to win this argument. She had to _convince_ Minerva rationally or she would never get through to her.

"Yes," Minerva said simply, recrossing her legs and lifting a defiant eyebrow.

Hermione took a deep breath.

"I never told you what happened last March," she said coolly. Minerva's brows furrowed at the non sequitur and her long lashes fluttered. Crossing her arms, she tilted her chin in a manner that clearly indicated her displeasure.

Surprisingly, Hermione felt rather steady as she lifted her left arm and placed it on the table between them. The elder witch sat for a moment, staring at her suspiciously before drawing her focus to Hermione's forearm.

Hermione waited, watching as the elegant eyebrows suddenly drew together, a flash of understanding passing through green eyes before they flicked up to Hermione. If one looked closely, it was easy to see the telltale outline of active magic in the dim lighting.

A moment later Hermione passed her right palm over the arm and removed the glamour even as Minerva gasped and one hand flew to her mouth. The witch leaned forward, her left hand reaching as if to touch... before her pained eyes met Hermione's and she froze, hand outstretched... hovering.

"We were captured and brought to the Malfoy Manor," Hermione began, feeling remarkably calm even as it dawned upon her that Minerva was the first person she was ever telling. "I had disfigured Harry to protect his identity and we might've escaped had Bellatrix Lestrange not arrived and discovered that we were in possession of the Sword of Gryffindor. She assumed we had stolen it out of her vault in Gringotts... and was incredibly incensed, as you might imagine. Of course, later we discovered that hers was a fake, but at the time it didn't matter."

Minerva's eyes implored her to continue and Hermione watched in fascination as the long hand began to descend closer and closer to her marred skin.

"Fenrir Greyback recognized me from the Prophet and so Bellatrix chose to torture me for information," Hermione continued simply. "I did not break, but in the end, she left me with this token of her appreciation. Not long after, there was a skirmish, a chandelier fell on me, and then we escaped with Dobby. Two months later we all defeated Voldemort."

It sounded so simple when reduced to pure words, but one look at Minerva's expression and Hermione knew that the woman understood the depth of what she had been through.

The long fingers ghosted over her scar carefully and something in the image caused her to break. Hermione took a shuddering breath as Minerva touched her reverently, her fingers communicating only care, sorrow... and love. She traced the ugly letters softly before fluttering down the arm to squeeze Hermione's hand in a gesture of solidarity.

One tear trickled down a beautiful ivory cheek and Minerva leaned forward carefully.

A moment later, full lips pressed a light kiss against her scar. And then another... and another.

Hermione watched with a detached sense of awe as Minerva carefully kissed her way down the loathsome word, no trace of disgust, pity, or reluctance on her face. Eventually Minerva sat back slightly, still staring down at her marred flesh with bright eyes, her hand again squeezing Hermione's gently.

It was the most intimate moment she had ever experienced.

"Tell me now that I'm too young," Hermione said softly, gritting her teeth even as her eyes burned. "Tell me that I am still a child... that I don't know what you have lived through... that I can't possibly understand what life has dealt you."

Abruptly the hand was gone. Minerva's eyes were wide and unusually luminous and she had flinched back halfway, her expression a mix of awe and fear.

Clearing her throat, Hermione pulled her arm back and sat forward.

"It is true that you have experienced much more than I, Minerva. But I will tell you right now that I am no child and I will _not_ be spoken to as one. Do not mistake my age for innocence and do not dare to presume that I haven't considered the depth of my feelings and the consequences of what they might mean for the both of us."

Hermione felt a brief surreal surge of disbelief as Minerva flinched again as if burned, her face momentarily contorting in a way that suggested she might have been about to burst into tears. She dropped her focus for a moment and Hermione watched as the woman took a deep shuddering breath.

"You... are right, Hermione," Minerva said after a moment, visibly deflating even as she blinked... her expression clearing and resettling into something more calm and slightly penitent before gazing at Hermione seriously. "I was wrong to dismiss you."

Hermione nodded her acknowledgement, surprised at how loudly the blood was pounding in her ears.

They sat in silence for a long moment and she could practically see the gears working as Minerva's thoughts raced into overtime.

In the aftermath of the charged moment, she suddenly felt weightless.

The sky was a deep indigo and Hermione could just see a sliver of the new moon rising...

Taking a deep breath she realized that she felt free. She had essentially shared two secrets... and the weightlessness of the release was intoxicating.

 _But you didn't yet... did you? You shared **one.**_

It was that small voice of challenge that had her sitting forward again, this time folding both elbows atop her knees as she gazed at Minerva patiently. It took a moment, but witch turned her focus slowly... her eyes communicating the jumble of emotions tumbling through that utterly bewitching mind.

"Minerva?"

"Yes," the breathy voice seemed to come from far away as if Minerva wasn't completely attached to the physical world. There was an urgency in her gaze that Hermione found compelling.

"I love you," Hermione said simply, willing her face and body to betray what she felt. Speaking the words aloud seemed to release another knot of tension in her chest even as she saw Minerva's eyes flutter in response... disbelieving.

"I love you," she repeated, her voice a bit firmer. "And I won't apologize for how I feel and for that simple fact as a personal truth. You've opened my eyes and my world to so much goodness. It is a _privilege_ to have fallen for you."

Minerva stared at her - completely stunned. Lips parted slightly, eyes wide in an almost comical reflection of her shock.

Hermione found herself breaking into a wide, giddy smile... wanting to throw herself at the woman across from her but instinctively knowing that the witch needed a good long moment to recover. She smiled gently, sighing in happiness at having released her second secret. However, unlike the first, this one filled her with hope. It had the promise of a future.

Hermione resolved to be patient.

As always with Minerva, it would be an advance and a retreat. Advance... and retreat.

She only hoped that the witch would sort through her own feelings in a timely manner.

Rising swiftly, the green eyes followed her in confusion - a small veneer of panic traversing her features as Hermione stepped out from her chair, and at that, she actually _did_ chuckle.

"Relax," she commanded gently. "I'm going to do the dishes."

Minerva seemed incapable of processing any additional information and so Hermione banished their plates to the kitchen, leaving the woman with her glass of red wine.

"Come find me when you're ready."

* * *

Minerva sat outside until the sky had but almost turned to black.

Her wine had long since been drained, but rather than feeling numbed by the alcohol as she had hoped, her body seemed intent on betraying her.

There was just the barest breath of a breeze winding across the rooftops and it caused the floating candles above her to twinkle gently as she gazed out unseeingly toward the dark horizon.

She felt warm.

Her rational mind tried to convince her that it was simply the hot summer night. She unbuttoned the cuffs of her shirt and rolled up the sleeves but the flushed feeling persisted, though, unlike earlier in the afternoon, Minerva found that it was coming from within.

 _Hermione._

Her thoughts remained somewhat suspended... likely her mind was close to imploding from the realization that the witch of her affections had given her far more to consider than she ever could have... hoped? Anticipated?

An expressive melody suddenly reached her ears and Minerva found herself crashing back to reality as she realized that it could only be Hermione playing the piano. Her attention sharpened itself to a point as she attempted to divine the piece...

 _Another Beethoven sonata_ , Minerva thought with a flash of self-consciousness, her cheeks flushing.

However unlike the seventeenth, the twenty-third was... _what is she even doing?!_

Minerva nearly laughed out loud at hearing the brash, arrogant octaves clamoring for her attention. She could already see Hermione's playfully defiant expression glaring at her in challenge.

It was so ridiculous.

The main theme seemed to cajole her invitingly and Minerva found herself rising with a chuckle, turning into the sound as the faint melody grew quiet and anxious. She waved a hand to vanish the candles, leaving the Disillusionment charm intact as she slipped back into her darkened rooms.

Gold light flickered just outside her doors and unable to help it, Minerva floated down the short hallway with a smile... her heart growing lighter as Hermione's confident trills and exquisite fingering left her in awe... amazed again by the witch's speed and clarity.

With a jolt, Minerva realized that the younger woman had given her exactly what she needed.

An out from her own tedious circle of thoughts.

The music seemed to fill her mind, pressing her concerns to one side and distantly she had to acknowledge how well the witch seemed to know her.

 _She drew you out of your rooms with just a few moments of playing..._

A warmth spread through her chest and Minerva realized that she was incredibly touched by the gesture. While their conversation had not gone _at all_ as she had expected - what _had_ she expected anyway? - Hermione was presenting her with the choice to reconnect in a delightfully subtle, sweet way that made Minerva feel...

 _Loved._

 _She loves you._

Minerva waited until the theme reasserted itself before stepping into the room fully, turning to the left to find Hermione absorbed in her work - fingers moving with the precise, assertive nature that made her such an adept player of Beethoven's works. The witch possessed the right amount of confidence and clarity to make the music come alive. Minerva's own style had always been far too emotional and expressive to contain the matter-of-fact changes in quality and key.

 _I could never play like that_ _._

A moment later, she found herself pressing her lips together firmly - determined not to smile as Hermione's eyes unerringly found hers, eyebrows lifting in a dramatic way as if she were suddenly embodying a caricature of Beethoven himself.

Her body language changed, becoming playful and exaggerated as her fingers began to pluck as they crossed, octaves rattling continuously as full lips pursed into an overwrought expression of thoughtfulness that had Minerva biting a lip, refusing to chuckle.

The playful theme pulled at her, rising higher until dissolving into descending arpeggios that left her somewhat breathless with their speed. The dark resurgence of the theme brought Hermione's eyes back, once again teasing as her left hand continued to drill into the low notes with persuasive abandon.

The ridiculous octaves reasserted themselves and exactly as she had predicted, Hermione suddenly glared at her in mock-anger, causing Minerva to break down and laugh... delighted when as the witch began to affect a series of pompous faces.

The theme reasserted itself again, this time low and warm, and Minerva held her breath as Hermione's eyes suddenly raked over her slowly, her lips curling into a playful smile before she was once again lost in the difficulty of her work - fingers sparkling over the keys, curls shivering lightly as the witch spread her legs slightly to gain greater purchase... trilling quickly, her arms extended wide across the keys...

The final movement was astounding in its difficulty and Minerva watched in disbelief as Hermione's entire body swayed into the sound, traversing the length of the keyboard down and back several times, nimble and quick. Her elbows lifted, nearly catching Minerva off-guard with the false ending before the witch pressed her body weight back into the keys, drawing a strength of sound that nearly caused her to step back with its force.

The full chords pounded into the quiet air and just as soon as Minerva had leaned into wall of sound, it began to dwindle... rolling down through the lowest notes until abruptly dispersing... Hermione gazing at her with a simple matter-of-fact expression that seemed to ask, "now what?"

The silence resounded for a long moment as they looked at each other... the younger witch was slightly back-lit from warm lights overhead, Minerva still standing half in shadow from the hallway... torn between wanting to laugh at the absurdity of what she had just witnessed and wanting to run away from the weighted silence that seemed to expect a response from her.

Hermione lifted her feet from the pedals and scooted back slightly, turning to face Minerva more directly.

"Let's go for a walk," she suggested simply, holding out a hand as if she hadn't completely dazzled Minerva with her musical abilities.

The small gesture both terrified and excited her.

Minerva found herself reaching out of her own accord, watching her pale hand extend toward the honey-colored one before her as if in slow motion...

As they slid together with easy finality, she glanced up to find caramel eyes watching at her quietly.

A small smile grew across peach lips and a moment later, they vanished _._

* * *

 _A/N: Pieces mentioned in this chapter:_

 _Liebestraum No. 3 in A-flat Major_ by Franz Liszt  
 _Sonata No. 23 in F-Minor, Op. 57 - "Appassionata"_ by Ludwig van Beethoven _(A delightful piece to be sure, though absolutely ridiculous if played with too much feeling. I challenge you to listen to the version on YouTube by Tzvi Erez without laughing. There is a flaming Beethoven in it. Literally. )_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: I apologize for the delay... the holidays have interrupted most of my work. Hopefully after next week I will be more on schedule!_

* * *

"Where are we?"

The breathless question fell between the cool salted air and quiet sound of waves meeting the shore.

"The beach just outside Cagnes-sur-Mer," Hermione replied, opening her eyes a bit wider as they tried to readjust to the sudden darkness. The shadowy outline of Minerva appeared to be looking around in curiosity and briefly Hermione wondered if her Animagus somehow managed to cross senses with her human ones.

The witch let go of her hand and Hermione stepped backward somewhat inelegantly, her flats immediately sinking into the sand. Wrinkling her nose she pulled them off, reveling in the cool grainy texture that filtered between her toes.

"Should we be here?" Minerva asked a moment later, chiseled profile briefly backlit by gold lights of the distant town.

Hermione chuckled at that, brushing a hand across her face to move a stray curl. Pausing for a moment she flicked her wand and vanished her shoes back to the flat... hoping they would end up on her bedroom floor as she intended.

"Were you the Head of Gryffindor at one point or did I imagine that?" Hermione quipped, infusing the tease with a bit of a smile.

There was a moment of icy silence and she could practically see the green eyes flashing in annoyance.

Hermione chuckled and fumbled for a moment before finding Minerva's hand again, tugging on it lightly and moving toward the sea. She squinted as the witch paused, bending over slightly before she realized Minerva was banishing her own shoes as well.

"This is quite the popular location during the day," Hermione explained softly, leading them down toward the water where the stars and ascending moon were beginning to reflect upon the waves with a bit more clarity. "Now that it's the height of summer there are lots of tourists and foreigners that like to come here, but I've always found that nighttime could provide a better ambiance."

Minerva gave a small hum in response and Hermione smiled, content to walk in silence.

A brief flash of intuition suggested that the witch might not enjoy direct contact with the water and Hermione chose to walk on the left side, her toes sinking into the damp sand as Minerva navigated the drier patches on the right.

Her eyes began to take in more of the surrounding beach and Hermione absently noted the restaurants and cafés in the distance - many hung with golden string lights as people continued to enjoy and revel into the late hour. It gave her a nostalgic feeling of summer's past... when she had been allowed to stay up later than usual on account of "absorbing the local culture," as her parents used to say.

"May I ask a question?" Minerva asked quietly, her hand slightly loose inside Hermione's. She felt a small flutter of anticipation.

"Of course."

"What is it you plan for yourself... in the coming years?"

Hermione hadn't expected that question to be first, though a moment later she smiled slightly at realizing Minerva was still searching for reassurance. The witch would need to come to her own conclusions about the viability of a potential relationship... _I can give that to her._

"I meant to tell you sooner rather than later," Hermione replied slowly. "But there never seemed to be an appropriate time to ask. I hope you will believe me when I say that I've been considering the idea for a long while, and that it's long been a goal of mine before I realized I had feelings for you."

"And that goal is?"

"To pursue my Mastery in Transfiguration," Hermione said smoothly, pausing to turn toward the woman beside her. "Minerva, I assure you that I did not intend to string my goals and feelings together on this point, and I promise you that it _is_ a course of study that I am genuinely interested in."

There was a long pause in which Hermione thought she heard the woman take a deep breath.

"I did see your rather impressive collection of books on the third floor," Minerva replied after a moment. In the darkness, Hermione wasn't sure what to make of the cool tone of voice.

"Do you have thoughts on the matter?" Hermione whispered, suddenly afraid of the answer.

"Have you considered with whom you would like to apprentice?" Minerva asked carefully.

Hermione pulled her hand back and crossed her arms, rubbing them slightly as a shiver crossed over her body. Suddenly she felt rather insecure.

"I had rather hoped to ask to apprentice beneath you," Hermione said quietly, looking down to where her toes were burrowing in the sand. "However, given the other aspects of our conversation today I... would understand if you felt... uncomfortable."

She wiggled her toes further, feeling a wave of emotion suddenly rise in the back of her throat. _Merlin, you didn't even consider that she might not want to teach you!_

"I realize of course that perhaps now it isn't the best timing considering you'll be Headmistress," Hermione continued, rushing on a bit. "And I know you haven't taken one on in years... but I rather thought it might be opportune to have a second person available to teach the younger levels while you search for another Transfiguration professor... and anyway it was my hope to pursue a Mastery through _at least_ my third classifications which would mean at least five years of me staying in one place. Though of course, I am also prepared letters to send to Mistresses Trenowyth and Hesperia in the event it wouldn't work out at Hogwarts."

 _Really, you've been reduced to babbling!_

"Beyond that, I suppose I would either pursue a second Mastery or continue onward in my classifications... with the eventual goal of teaching somewhere."

Hermione scuffed a foot against the sand.

"I... think... I think it's something that I could be quite good at," she finished, only somewhat lamely.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione froze as she felt the witch next to her shift. Her heart seemed to be pounding rather quickly.

"Hermione... I would be honored to take you as my apprentice," Minerva said softly.

Two long hands gently grasped her by the shoulders and Hermione found herself looking up in surprise. The lights in the distance limned Minerva's right cheek in pale gold and Hermione could see the green eyes glistening with unshed tears.

She blinked in disbelief for a moment before her face broke into a wide grin even as Minerva drew her forward into a hug.

"Don't think for a moment I would let you apprentice anywhere else," she whispered, lips tickling the stray curls near Hermione's ear.

Chuckling slightly as they withdrew, Hermione bit a lip and tried not to vibrate with the excitement that suddenly flooded her body.

"I confess that I am not entirely surprised by your choice. You always had a natural aptitude for Transfiguration," Minerva said, her wry smile infusing her precise tones. "However are you truly interested in teaching? I would have imagined you would be more satisfied by working in a research setting."

Hermione sighed and turned to begin walking again, arms swinging lightly as she mused over the exact question that Harry had asked her a few weeks prior.

"I'll admit that part of me is still attracted to the idea of research... however I also know that I could never be satisfied just working in research alone. It's much too heady and self-involved and I know that I would feel guilty if ever it began to take me on a pathway that felt exclusive to the discipline," she explained, recalling Harry's thoughtful face when she had given a similar answer.

Her friend had immediately recognized that Hermione needed the prospect of affecting change in order to feel satisfied in her work. They were both similar in that regard and while she knew that Harry would make a great Auror, she also instinctively felt that he would somehow end up teaching in the future too.

"I actually ended up thinking about how wonderful it would be to teach as a professor. The academic appointment provides space and funding for individual research while adding in the bonus of passing one's love of a discipline on to others. When I think to the people who have been most influential in my life and who I wish to emulate, I find myself thinking of you, Professor's Lupin, Snape, and Flitwick... the people who encouraged me to expand my interests and who presented me with challenges that I didn't know that I could overcome."

There was a pause and Hermione thought that she could make out the witch nodding.

"Severus would laud it over me for eternity if he ever heard you say that," Minerva replied, sniffing in amusement.

"Obviously I can't say I wish to emulate _his_ teaching style," Hermione chuckled. "However in looking back I realize that it must have been an extraordinarily difficult and thankless time for him. In order for Professor Dumbledore's plan to work, he had to create enough of a backstory for himself that no one would question his apparent turn toward the Dark side."

She sniffed mirthlessly.

"And it worked perfectly... none of us was the wiser. But later, as I've gone through my memories, I realize that Professor Snape went out of his way to ensure that we all knew how to protect ourselves. He taught us _well_ in Defense. And when I look through my notes on Potions, he went above and beyond the standard curriculum. We hated him and yet he was still an excellent teacher. It was incredible really..."

Hermione nearly flinched a moment later when long fingers grazed her own and Minerva slowed to capture her hand quietly, her cool fingers sliding between Hermione's with easy familiarity.

"You are truly a remarkable, woman," Minerva replied softly. "I don't suppose I would have ever imagined hearing a former student speak of Severus so fondly."

Hermione blushed at the quiet compliment and felt a warmth spread through her chest. She squeezed Minerva's hand.

"Professor Snape was also a factor in my thoughts on the future," she said quietly, her mood shifting into one of longing. "I never want to feel as though I'm leading a life other than what my heart desires. I will never choose to do what is expected of me simply because others feel it should be so. And I will fight anyone on that point, Minerva."

Bolstering her courage, Hermione tilted her chin to look at Minerva's shadowy face.

"Even you."

Though she had spoken the words with kindness, Hermione wasn't surprised as she felt Minerva flinch slightly.

They had been tiptoeing around the elephant of her feelings and Hermione wanted to make it absolutely clear that she had thought about them deeply and had considered them through a variety of different lenses. If Minerva wanted to reject her, she hoped would only be because the witch didn't return her feelings... not because she felt Hermione deserved someone different.

Minerva remained silent and though her heart sank slightly at the woman's stillness, Hermione chose to remain optimistic.

Pulling on the witch's hand she brought them up short and turned so that she could see more of the woman's face. Sweeping brows were marred by the pucker between them and in the dim lighting, Minerva's features seemed rather severe. However Hermione could just make out the way emerald eyes seemed to flutter in distress and she felt a pang of sympathy, realizing that she was asking quite a bit of the intensely private woman.

 _Oh, Minerva..._

One hand came up to cup Minerva's cheek gently, long lashes fluttering against her finger as the woman's breath caught. It was an arresting sound and Hermione let her other hand rise to lightly stroke Minerva's sternum, smiling at feeling the woman's warmth and racing pulse.

"Hermione..."

"I don't need words until you're ready," Hermione whispered kindly. She stepped forward, letting both hands rest lightly upon Minerva's chest, as she leaned upward, surprised and pleased to feel how violently the woman seemed to be trembling.

Placing a chaste kiss next to the Minerva's lips, Hermione withdrew quickly, turning away and moving down toward the water.

The gasping exhale behind her provided enough answer for the moment.

 _She'll come around in time._

* * *

Minerva gasped... stumbling slightly on the uneven sand as one arm flew out to steady her, but only meeting cool summer air.

Hermione had turned and was striding toward the water, completely unaware of how her simple actions had nearly undone Minerva completely.

 _Sweet Salazar..._

Minerva stood for a moment, one hand floating up to touch the place where Hermione's lips had lightly touched, still in disbelief that they had been so close. Her heart clenched and she took another breath, her mind still reeling even as she tried to quell the desperate wave of longing and disappointment that the young woman hadn't pressed her lips just a few more centimeters to the left.

Actually, Minerva was rather surprised that Hermione hadn't kissed her directly... it would have been just the bold sort of maneuver she would have expected from the witch. But then again...

 _She's waiting for me... in all senses of the word._

The thought was both reassuring and terrifying.

Taking yet another breath, Minerva floated a hand over her hair, tucking a strand behind her ear from where it had fallen out of her loose bun.

Hermione was wading a bit deeper, hands outstretched for balance as she navigated the rockier pebbles close to where the waves tucked and rolled over one another. Her toned legs rippled slightly and Minerva swallowed, following those long lines upward to where the swell of her hips was encased in a part of simple jean shorts. On top, Hermione wore a sleeveless ivory shirt, the simple cotton rippling slightly in the sea breeze. The riotous curls were tamed into a high twist secured with a wrap and Minerva bit her lip as she watched.

 _She's so young..._

But then again, she wasn't.

Though inwardly, Minerva winced at the contrast between the young woman's youthful Muggle outfit and Minerva's standard oxford shirt and grey trousers, she had to admit again that Hermione's was most definitely not a youthful body. The telltale curves and easy sensuality that the witch exuded betrayed her age and maturity...

 _And everything she has told you has betrayed wisdom beyond her years..._

Minerva drifted a bit closer toward the sea, hands folded behind her back as her bare toes sank into the grainy sand. She paralleled Hermione at a distance as they slowly continued to amble along the beach, separated by a few meters of sand and the foamy stirring of water.

She knew that she was being given space to think and recover and again, Minerva was grateful.

While she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Hermione was being remarkably patient in a way that seemed to reverse their positions, her mind suddenly conjured a snippet of a conversation she had held with Kingsley Shacklebolt at one of the victory parties in the days following the Final Battle.

 _She was sitting in a chair toward the periphery of the large tent that had been erected on the grass close to the Lake._

 _Tables and chairs were scattered beneath the tent and out into the open air where the last vestiges of sunset were dipping behind the rocky horizon of the highlands and beyond the tallest fronds of the Forbidden Forest. People were scattered across the grounds, though a number had elected to stay in the tent where Aberforth had set up a rather large and well-stocked bar on account of the festive evening.  
_

 _The new summer breeze was slightly chilly and Minerva had elected to sit near to one of the many twinkling torches scattered across the castle grounds._

 _"Minerva," Kingsley murmured by way of greeting. She smiled tiredly in reply, giving the tall wizard a look of admonishment even as a tumbler of Firewhiskey was pressed into one hand._

 _"Come on now... you of all people deserve to celebrate."  
_

 _Kingsley took a seat at her side, ignoring her thorough eye-roll. At that moment, the "Golden Trio" as the Prophet had quickly penned them, ambled into view - followed closely by Ginny, Luna, and Neville._

 _Ron and Harry were deep in animated conversation and Minerva heard Kingsley sniff in amusement as Hermione heaved an obvious sigh and fell back, waiting until her friends passed her before following along at a bit more sedate pace._

 _"They are the ones who should be celebrating, my friend," she replied quietly, lifting her chin toward the rambunctious group._

 _"I don't worry about **them** , my dear. No doubt they will be responsible for cleaning out Aberforth's stores by the end of the night. Though it seems you're just about as bad as Hermione at taking a break," Kingsley chuckled, giving her a fond nudge with one elbow. _

_Before she could open her mouth to reply, Minerva found herself studying the young woman in question._

 _While her companions fairly vibrated with excitement and undoubtedly a few drinks, Hermione held a rather full glass of wine and seemed rather subdued by comparison. She caught the witch's subtle wince as Ginny and Ron started singing some sort of drinking song, fading back even further and holding up a firm hand as Neville tried to cajole her into joining._

 _"Mmm... an old soul, that one," Kingsley said quietly, watching as Hermione waved her friends off before settling into a chair near the opposite corner of the tent, quickly striking up a conversation with Rolanda Hooch and Septima Vector with easy assurance that left Minerva wondering when the witch had found time to befriend her colleagues.  
_

 _"Won't be surprised if she ends up with a wizard thirty years her senior," Kingsley remarked even as Minerva gave him a scandalized look that made him chuckle loudly._

 _"Merlin, these days no one would look twice, Minerva. Besides, can **you** see her with someone like Ron or Harry or any number of these young boys with more hormones than sense? If I weren't taking up the mantle of Minister, I'd certainly think about pursuing her..."_

The memory faded away and Minerva shook her head to clear it and the wave of embarrassment she had felt at Kingsley's forward admission. Fortunately she had been saved from a reply by the arrival of Hestia Jones and a few other Aurors who had pitched in to help at the Final Battle...

All thoughts of Hermione had quickly been erased by several more rounds of drinks and off-key singing that had lasted until late into the night.

 _An old soul..._

Yes, that seemed to fit Hermione to a tee.

Minerva smiled absently, thinking about the subsequent months after that random memory and how quickly the witch had proven Kingsley's offhanded description to be true.

 _She asked me to look past her age as a number..._

Though if she did that, Minerva knew that she had easily found a partner with whom she could foresee... _Merlin, the rest of your life._

Shivering slightly, Minerva bit her lip.

 _You have been silent long enough._

"Hermione?" Minerva called, smiling lightly when the witch's focus found hers with unerring precision.

The young woman moved closer, shaking her feet lightly as she stepped out of the water and toward Minerva. She found herself holding out a hand, pleased when Hermione took it with no hesitation, the warm fingers threading between hers with delicious ease.

"Are you ready to return?" the witch asked quietly, giving her a curious look. Minerva shook her head.

"Not just yet. I wondered if we... might talk for a moment?"

Hermione tugged her hand in response, pointing toward a shadowy area up the beach slightly where a number of rowboats sat quietly in the sand.

Minerva could feel her heart pounding in her chest as they traversed the distance quickly and she smiled when Hermione stepped into a rowboat fearlessly, her murmured words divesting the wooden surfaces of sand and dried bits of seaweed. It was a rather comfortable place to sit and Minerva found herself choosing to sit next to the young woman, quickly drawing both of their hands onto one thigh as she turned toward Hermione, her heart pounding in her throat.

"Hermione..." Minerva began, drawing a deep breath as she gazed down at their entwined fingers. "I regret that I am admittedly unaccustomed to speaking my thoughts and feelings as freely as you. I have grown used to silence... as well as pushing my emotions to one side for the sake of my duties."

Slender thumbs rubbed across her hands gently and had it been any other person at any other time, Minerva would have been mortified by the abrupt welling of tears that suddenly bloomed at the corners of her eyes.

"These past few weeks and months have been inordinately hard at times," she whispered. "I... have found myself feeling more alone and afraid than I would care to admit. My closest friends are dead... there is still much work to be done in rebuilding our community... and I am rising to a position that I never wanted but find I cannot refuse..."

She paused as two tears slipped down her cheeks, their hot trails giving way to the ache that had rested beneath her sternum for months, if not years.

"But beneath all the hardship and heartache, there has been a silver lining I would never have anticipated."

Minerva drew a shuddering breath, lifting her chin to gaze into dark brown eyes that were staring at her quietly.

"You have been such a gift in my life, Hermione," she whispered. "With you... I feel anchored. Safe. Free to be myself in a way that no one else has ever managed."

Her gaze faltered and Minerva found herself looking out toward the sea... drinking in the light shimmer across the waves as the moon rose upwards in the dark sky.

"The past few weeks and months have been tempered by your presence. I would never have imagined how quickly you would manage to slip into my life in a way that feels comfortable and familiar. You... understand me. And I would be lying if I said that I wasn't flattered by your attentions, though admittedly you caught me off-guard with your honesty."

"Minerva, I..."

"But I am afraid of my feelings for you, Hermione," Minerva interrupted, drawing her hands back and pressing them to both cheeks. The wave of insecurity crashed over her.

"They have grown so quickly and part of me is disgusted by them..." she shook her head even as her hands fell limply by her sides. "I was your _professor_ , Hermione. You are so young and while rationally I know that neither of us harbored such feelings for each other during your years at Hogwarts, I am not so blind as to think that others won't make the same mistake. And I am not so foolish as to question what you could _possibly_ have to gain from a relationship with me... while I am not _old_ , as you say... my life and yours are in considerably different places. I fear that you will one day look back on this time and regret it."

A small noise forced her to turn her focus and Minerva was surprised to see Hermione crying... and at once her heart broke, though she was loathe to reach out and provide comfort.

The younger witch sniffed, wiping tears away from her cheeks angrily before reaching out and grasping Minerva's hands again firmly. The other protests seemed to die on her lips and Minerva swallowed, afraid that Hermione would ignore her concerns... or worse, give in and choose walk away.

The woman drew in a steadying breath before fixing her with a clear gaze, the familiar caramel-colored eyes nearly chocolate in the darkness.

"Minerva, I have tried to be rational for your benefit. And yet I realize now that being rational is not going to win you over. There _is_ nothing rational about our feelings for one another and I suppose that is part of the mystery and joy of being a human being."

At once Minerva felt her heart bloom with love for the young woman next to her, but the words were caught on her tongue... beneath a wave of uncertainty and lump of emotion that still struggled to abate.

"I love you, Minerva," Hermione said firmly. She squeezed their her hands for emphasis.

"I can't know the course of the future nor predict what a potential relationship together would look like. But I _do_ know what it is that I am searching for... and while other people my age are happy to run rampant, date carelessly, go out, dance, drink, or do any of the other innumerable activities of youth, I know for certain that that's not what I want," Hermione paused and brought one hand to cup Minerva's cheek. "And I think you know that to be true."

Minerva's eyes fluttered shut, leaning into the warm caress and blinking back another wave of tears that threatened to fall.

"I am searching for someone with whom I can spend the rest of my days. Maybe that's a lot to ask, I don't know... but after the War, I know I don't need any more impermanence. I want more of what we're already building now... conversations with someone that challenge me and force me to see the world differently."

She could hear the smile lacing Hermione's quiet words and her own lips curved upward in response.

"Reading next to someone who understands that books were my first pathway into the world and my way of getting to know it... someone with whom I would be happy playing chess or doing research... cooking for someone who genuinely enjoys sharing a meal with me... possibly because they can't cook for themselves."

Try as she might, Minerva found herself chuckling, and blinked away tears to open her eyes as two sets of long fingers suddenly threaded behind her neck and persuaded her long hair to fall from its bun. Her breath caught.

"Someone who cares enough for me to wash my hair... or to sit next to me at the piano and coax out a terrible rendition of Mozart's Serenade."

Again, Minerva found herself joining in with Hermione's laughter as she ducked her head slightly, shivering as long fingers continued massaging the back of her head gently, eliciting a warmth that felt comforting and also entirely new and alien.

"Hermione..." she whispered, pausing when a long finger was pressed quietly to her lips. Minerva's questioning gaze was met with a kind, luminous one as Hermione leaned closer.

"I don't have all the answers for you, Minerva, and for that I am truly sorry," Hermione murmured apologetically. "I only know that what we are building together now feels like the foundation of something upon which I would very much like to continue. I offer you my love and everything that I am and everything that I have. I suppose I have to hope that is enough for you."

Another trail of tears slipped down her cheeks and Minerva found herself blinking in amazement, momentarily stunned by the depth of emotion in Hermione's gaze and the slight aura of insecurity gracing the thin shoulders. _You offer me everything, Hermione._

"Yes."

The word was breathed from her lips and Minerva felt her lashes flutter in surprise even as a similar expression bloomed upon the beautiful features before her. _Merlin, couldn't you give her more than that?_

"Yes," Minerva repeated, clearing her throat and sitting up a bit. She grasped Hermione's wrists and drew them down to rest in the crook in her elbows, even as her own hands slid over the soft skin of the young woman's arms so that they were grasping each other firmly.

"You don't need to offer yourself to me, Hermione. I am already yours," Minerva said quietly, her lashes fluttering again. "I love you... gods, help me, I love you entirely, Hermione. Though it remains beyond me what I could have done to be deserving of your love in return..."

She trailed off, stunned at the force of her own admission and the brilliant smile that suddenly blossomed before her, causing her heart to ache in joy and happiness.

"One of the great mysteries of life, to be sure," Hermione replied softly, tilting her head to gaze at Minerva fondly... clearly still soaking in her words and their mutual surprise. Minerva felt her cheeks flush even as her body grew warm from within.

A moment later Hermione tilted forward and brought her forehead to Minerva's, resting against her in a simple gesture that was both unexpected and entirely shattering.

 _Merlin above, she loves you... and you love her.._

A sob burst from her lips and Minerva found herself shaking... floored by the weight of feeling that threatened to overwhelm her.

It was terrifying and exhilarating and delightful... utterly freeing in a way that she had never before experienced.

"Don't cry, my love," Hermione murmured, a smile again gracing her words as her arms suddenly wrapped around Minerva's torso. "You have me."

 _"My love"... gods, how long have you waited for someone to call you that?_

It was moment requiring and lacking nothing... and in a brief corner of her mind, Minerva tucked it away... wanting to savor in the absolute knowledge that the woman she loved above all else also felt the same about her. It was delicious and heady... mind-boggling and yet entirely simple.

They were in love.

The cool sea breeze seemed to wrap around the both of them, remaining gentle and quiet as if respecting the sanctity of the moment. Minerva's tears began to abate and she breathed in Hermione's familiar sweet scent and reveled in the delicious feeling of embracing the woman she loved without condition.

"Perhaps now we should return home," Minerva husked after a long moment... her thready whisper nearly lost to Hermione's curls and the gentle murmur of salty waves. She felt Hermione nod slightly in her arms and they drew apart.

"All right..."

She suddenly felt drained, and though the seashore was beautiful and the night warm, Minerva suddenly longed to return to the warm ambiance of the flat... aware that their feelings were out in the open and the next stage of their relationship had yet to commence.

They rose to their feet unsteadily, laughing quietly as the rowboat shifted a bit and they automatically locked arms for balance.

Stepping out, Minerva offered a hand to Hermione, unable to help a bright smile from breaking across her face as the witch accepted it quickly and she was once again lifted by the simple knowledge that Hermione was hers.

They drew together, arms winding around each other in a way that nearly brought their bodies flush against one another... the warmth and energy between them suddenly rising as unspoken tendrils of desire began to course through the both of them with mounting intensity.

Warm, chocolatey eyes met hers and Minerva inhaled sharply, struck by the unconcealed need contained within.

 _Merlin help me!_

Time seemed to stand still.

And a moment later they disappeared.

* * *

 _A/N: Don't worry, it's not over ;-)_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: We are nearing the end. But not before some sparks...  
_

* * *

Hermione had but a few moments to absorb the love and desire in Minerva's eyes before her breath caught and they were being whisked away to the cozy golden ambiance of the third-floor sitting area.

 _Destination. Determination. Deliberation._

In retrospect, as the sudden stab of pain in her right shoulder caused her to hiss, Hermione mused that Wylkie Twycross had failed to factor in the variable of one highly attractive and _Distracting_ Minerva McGonagall during his lessons on Apparition.

Arriving into the glowing warmth of the third-floor living space, she watched with strangely detached amusement as Minerva's face abruptly shifted in horror when she realized that Hermione had splinched herself. The dark, glazed look quickly disappeared from emerald eyes and a moment later Hermione hissed again when Minerva physically turned her, a small gasp falling from the woman's lips even as Hermione felt her shirt grow warm with blood.

"Wait, it's fine," she ground out, wincing as light fingers grazed over whatever part of her shoulder had been left behind.

Fortunately it only felt like a small chunk. _Gross._

"'Fine' is a completely ludicrous adjective for this situation! Everything is _not_ fine, Her-"

She pressed a shaky hand against Minerva's lips and held out a hand, the wordless summons shortly answered by an all-too familiar bottle of Dittany zooming into her grasp. _I really thought I was finished with this stuff..._

"Pour this on it," Hermione commanded, pressing the small bottle into Minerva's hand even as she gritted her teeth.

"I need to remove your shirt," Minerva muttered in reply, and even though the witch was standing behind Hermione, she could practically see the sweet blush gracing the high ivory cheeks. Even after their conversation, Minerva was still shy. There were a few murmured words, and a moment later Hermione winced again as soft cotton suddenly fell away from the right half of her body, caught at the last second as she pressed a hand to her sternum.

The stinging effects of Dittany shortly made themselves known and she could feel her skin knit itself back together, giving a small sigh of relief as the pain quickly abated.

Hermione turned, already feeling a combination of foolish and annoyed - the mood completely disrupted if Minerva's hard expression was any indication. Green eyes were still fixed upon her shoulder, the elegant brows drawn together in distress, and the full lips that she had longed to kiss a moment ago pressed into a thin line.

"Hope you know what you signed up for," Hermione joked weakly, feeling a disconcerting shiver pass through her as she noted how the tips of Minerva's fingers were stained in red. The witch's expression softened and she was reasonably surprised when the woman chuckled.

"If you wanted me to put my hands you, Hermione, you could have found a more subtle method," Minerva replied, shaking her head even as Hermione wrinkled her nose and smiled.

A moment later Minerva whispered something and Hermione felt her shirt knit itself together and the majority of the wetness disappear from the thin cloth. From the woman's expression however, she wasn't entirely successful.

"Let me fetch a towel," Minerva murmured and she quickly disappeared, leaving Hermione alone, somewhat regretful and somewhat amused. Peering over her should she could just see the angry outline of newly healed skin peeking out from her sleeve. A bit of experimental lifting of her arm and shoulder seemed to indicate that the area was sore but in good working order.

 _Smooth one..._ _thank Merlin you didn't splinch yourself worse!  
_

The sound of running water reached her ears and Hermione drifted over to the piano, sitting down and flicking her wand absently to dim the overhead lights and reignite a few floating candles to hover above her. Briefly, she appreciated that Minerva didn't mind doing some things the Muggle way. It was such a small thing but reassuring nonetheless.

 _Morgana socks... she loves you_.

The pulsing ache in her shoulder briefly forgotten, Hermione allowed herself a silly, goofy smile as she replayed some of Minerva's words from their previous conversation.

 _Everything you wanted... and it's yours._

Her fingers rose of their own accord, lifting the fallboard and skimming over the keys for a moment. Minerva's footsteps indicated her return just as Hermione recalled the perfect piece to describe her emotional state.

Shaking her head in disbelief that the unfolding night was even real, Hermione began to play.

The full, dreamy wall of sound that issued was immediately satisfying and only slightly titillating. Her teacher had rarely allowed her to play Chopin or Listz, insisting they were far too nuanced and emotional for her style of playing. However as her fingertips danced over the keys with heady speed and passion, Hermione wondered if Galina had been wrong.

Perhaps she had simply lacked the proper motivation.

 _Minerva..._

Now, Hermione felt her body came alive and she rocked into the embrace of sweeping arpeggios... infusing the light treble notes with the airy quality that lent itself to the piece's title. _Un sospiro... a sigh..._

A smile lit her lips and the pedal seemed to blend the notes like a watercolor paintbrush, swirling the colors and tones together and Hermione felt as breathless as the music suggested. Her emotions rolled and undulated with the waves of music, at once full, deep, and effortlessly unconstrained as thoughts of green eyes, ivory skin, and long fingers flooded her mind.

Minerva perching next to her only seemed to infuse the moment with greater intensity... her fingers coursed down the length of the keyboard quickly, like the waterfall at the Isle of Skye... and Hermione caught a glimpse of pressed white sleeves and elegant fingers before she tumbled into the second section.

The delicate threads and glittering notes seemed as real as the words they had just shared moments before... and it seemed so natural to tilt her head backwards, leaning against the lithe arm that wrapped itself around her, pulling her shirt aside to dab gently at the place where she had so recently experienced pain.

Hermione sighed... reveling in the light touch, her lips remaining parted as long fingers suddenly unwound the wrap from her hair and began threading through her curls. Deep, low arpeggios resonated against the warmth that flooded through her chest and she marveled at how easily her hands handled the transitions that had once seemed to hard and foreign to her...

With Minerva there, her touch providing immediate inspiration, her delicious scent swirling around her, Hermione felt relaxed and uninhibited.

Full chords resounded into the air, hanging... weighted... as if emphasizing how _right_ they were together, how honest...

The tonic presented itself with assurance and Minerva's hands began to withdraw - drifting down her neck and skimming along her spine until they disappeared completely...

Hermione carried them through the last modulations, rising upward with each chord...

The prolonged conclusion felt like the end of a fairy tale or divine dream, pulling her along in its predictability and as her hands pressed into the final arpeggio, Hermione leaned into the final resolution, the middle register leaving the piece with an unfinished quality... like an unanswered question.

 _No, a promise..._

A toast to the future that was just beginning to open itself before her.

Hermione's eyes drifted closed, her hands lifting away from the keys as the last echoes of sounds melted away into nothingness.

For a moment, silence resonated - almost as full and sweet as the music had been moments before. It was comforting and solid, anchored by the flood of love and emotion that seemed to hang tangibly upon the air.

She could fairly taste the woman next to her... feel the warmth of her body, imagine the gentle caress of her touch... and Hermione trembled beneath the weight of that knowledge as her eyes opened, taking in fragmented snatches of the piano, twinkling shadows, and darkened room before she was turning...

Angling her body, and then, their knees were brushing.

Minerva was gazing at her, head tilted slightly as if she had been waiting. Elegant hands seemed anxious and Hermione barely had the opportunity to absorb the way they tugged at grey fabric as the witch subtly leaned forward...

"I should like to kiss you," Minerva whispered, green eyes lidded with simmering passion and Hermione felt the woman's breath ghost over her... sweet with a tinge of wine and something completely unique.

The quiet request fell between them and Hermione blinked, amazed by the amount of longing and desire she saw reflecting back at her.

As if in slow motion, she felt herself lean forward as Minerva's hand rose to cup her cheek... tilting her chin slightly and coaxing her forward with gossamer lightness. Her heart suddenly pounded and Hermione's eyes fluttered closed, their last image capturing full rose lips, parted in anticipation as they halved the distance to come together.

The first light touch of Minerva's lips was little more than a silken whisper. A mere brush that shocked her in its simplicity... and ignited fire beneath her skin.

Their breath mingled for a moment and Hermione could fairly _see_ the dark brows furrowed in concentration...

And then they met again... the tentative brush becoming a bit more bold as their lips explored gently...

Warmth flooded through her and Hermione reveled in the feeling of soft fullness moving beneath her, the pull of Minerva's cool fingertips drawing her in and closer.

Seconds passed and she sank into the kiss willingly... joyfully... a heady weightlessness passing through her as Hermione relished in this new way of learning Minerva.

The first light touch of her tongue caused the witch's mouth to open and they both shuddered as Minerva's tongue slid carefully upon her own, hot and silken... intoxicating in its light, teasing touch.

Hermione inhaled deeply, senses swimming as her own hands came up to thread into long, ebony locks, tilting Minerva's chin slightly to find greater purchase as she continued exploring the marvelous heat and exquisite taste.

A strong hand slid its way between her shoulder-blades, pressing them closer, the both of them breaking apart for a moment as Minerva's full breasts suddenly pressed against her own. She heard a gasp fall from her lips even as her eyes flew open.

 _Gods above, is this real?_

Dark lashes fluttered and Hermione was amazed to hear the witch's ragged breath, delighted, and more than a little aroused at witnessing and having been _responsible_ for the slow undoing of Minerva McGonagall.

Realizing they were moving rather quickly, Hermione took a moment to withdraw slightly... smiling as her eyes traced over the fluttering pulse point, dipping forward to place a feather light kiss against the soft ivory skin. Minerva seemed to be trembling, and Hermione pressed another kiss along the line of her jaw... and another... and another.

She could feel the muscles clench beneath her lips and Hermione smiled, drawing back to see that Minerva's eyes were tightly closed, a furrow between her brow as she clearly struggled to keep her passions contained within.

 _Oh Minerva..._

Hermione pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Minerva's mouth, delighted when the witch turned, pausing with parted lips before Hermione recaptured her in another kiss that began to simmer with building passion. A strong hand pressed her closer and Hermione arched forward, smirking as it caused Minerva to gasp, breaking their kiss - her emerald gaze nearly crossing as she gazed at Hermione feverishly.

"You are marvelous," Hermione whispered, trailing the back of one finger against Minerva's cheek. Lashes fluttered, and the gentle touch caused the proud chin to tilt upward searchingly, nearly breaking Hermione's heart in its unspoken hopefulness.

Minerva was so responsive. And yet so bound.

The woman opened herself into the smallest of gestures and Hermione could feel her love growing with each passing moment, celebrating the deliciously sensual witch in her arms, and also breaking for how timidly Minerva appeared to answer her own desires.

For every movement that Hermione initiated, Minerva seemed to restrain one of her own.

Deciding to proceed carefully, Hermione pulled back, smiling softly as a quizzical emerald gaze found her own. Before Minerva could verbalize a question, Hermione was pulling the witch to her feet... the piano bench skidding backward slightly as she dropped the fallboard and pressed Minerva against it, quickly recapturing full lips and reveling in the _almost_ moan as Minerva allowed herself to be guided backward.

Lips teased slowly... encouraging the beautiful woman beneath her to give voice to what she wanted.

For innumerable minutes there was nothing but delicious heat.

When she felt elegant hands begin ghosting along the sides of her body tentatively, Hermione nudged Minerva's legs apart slightly, stepping between them before her hands slid along crisp white fabric to dip down and cup firm buttocks, lifting... leveraging. _.._

"Oh!" They broke apart again and Hermione smiled against Minerva's neck as the witch gasped in surprise, wrapping one leg around the back of Hermione's thighs for balance as she was lifted and set atop the fallboard.

Their lower bodies were pulled flush as Minerva rested against the piano, left toes barely grazing the floor... Hermione leaned backward, forcing Minerva's body to envelop her as her arms continued to support and tease... one hand making small circles on the patch of exposed skin revealed above grey trousers, the other tangling in the long mane of hair, guiding Minerva's mouth against her own more fiercely.

The unexpected shift seemed to coax Minerva into relaxing and Hermione was pleased when the firm lips began to move more insistently.

Long hands tangled in her curls, tilting her head back... and Hermione gasped when Minerva began kissing a searing pathway along the length of her jaw, grazing her ear with gentle teeth before leaving a trail of wet kisses along her neck.

Her knees trembled and Hermione groaned softly, smiling in open-mouthed delirium when she felt Minerva's hands grasp her more possessively in response.

 _Mmmm, so the lioness likes a little noise?_

Hermione arched at the thought, wondering what other delicious discoveries lay in wait ahead of her...

Fire erupted beneath her skin as Minerva nudged the collar of her shirt aside and nuzzled against her collarbones gently.

"Minerva..." Hermione whispered, uncertain of what she wanted to say.

Reaching down, she drew the dark head back up...

Noses bumped, a black curtain of hair falling around them as Minerva's hands cupped Hermione's cheeks, drawing her upward... leaving them forehead to forehead as a slip of pink tongue darted out to lap against her own again and again.

Hermione's breath caught, the unexpected kisses feeling remarkably feline and thrilling in a suggestive way that made her tilt her hips upward, humming softly when long hands slid across her chest, barely grazing the outside of her breasts before locking underneath her shoulder-blades.

She tugged gently, tipping Minerva's head back slightly as her mouth departed from the now-swollen lips and began to press airy kisses along the witch's jawline, eliciting a tangible shudder and perceptible tightening of Minerva's leg around her waist. Her one hand came to slide along the leg gently, rising up to cup the outline of a firm hip before slipping down to draw lazy circles beneath one strong thigh.

"Gods... Hermione," Minerva whispered, her voice tight.

The soft admission of arousal made her smile into the sensuous line of muscle that ran along Minerva's neck.

Long fingers clenched the fabric of her shirt and Hermione began to slow her ministrations slightly, determined to release her witch a little more.

Her kisses became lighter and her grasp on Minerva's leg less possessive, and as predicted, the change in touch seemed to only provoke more fervent trembling. Minerva's chin was resting against her curls, the erratic breaths and hands gently worrying the back of her shirt the only clues to indicate that the witch was coming undone.

 _She's so quiet... we will have to work on that..._

Hermione could feel the woman's pulse as the taught stomach pressed into her own breasts, the rhythm heavy and rapid. She stroked her hand up Minerva's back soothingly... smiling again as her kisses reached the sweeping curve of one collarbone and became feather light... a breathy gasp reaching her ears even as she to ignore the sharp points of Minerva's nipples pressing toward her tantalizingly.

Stepping back slightly, her hands came to Minerva's waist and Hermione helped lower the witch down... bewildered green eyes meeting hers for a brief moment before full lips came crashing against hers once again.

Hermione barely suppressed a moan as she felt Minerva's hands glide over her with a more authoritative touch, savoring the way the witch tilted her backwards, her weight falling into strong hands as Minerva deepened their kiss yet again.

 _Yes! Let go, my love..._

A warm tongue demanded entrance and Hermione capitulated willingly, groaning as it expertly fluttered against her own, the sound again eliciting a perceptible tightening of Minerva's hands. A moment later she was righted and Hermione drew back slowly, continuing to press kiss after kiss against Minerva's lips even as she attempted to catch her breath... blinking dreamily into the beautiful features above her.

 _She's going to be the death of you for sure..._

The thought filled her with giddiness and Hermione laughed softly, drawing a lazy feline smile from Minerva that nearly undid her own promise to go slow. Eventually they paused, Minerva resting her forehead against Hermione's, eyes closed peacefully as her hands drifted down to clasp Hermione's in her own.

"Gods above, Hermione. I love you so much."

Her heart soared at the quiet words and Hermione was unable to help herself as one hand came up to caress the back of Minerva's neck. Tilting her lips toward the shell of one ear, she whispered her reply.

"I love you, Minerva McGonagall. Beyond reason."

Her words resulted in a brilliant smile that brought tears to Hermione's eyes... at once realizing how terribly lucky she was...

Strong arms wrapped around her waist and they gazed at each other for a long moment before Hermione drew forward and pressed herself into Minerva's lithe figure, folding them into an embrace that seemed to speak volumes into the quiet air, resonating with the many words - spoken and unspoken, that had led them to this moment.

They remained in the embrace for an unspoken amount of time, allowing the tension to dissolve and their heartbeats to slow.

Eventually Minerva pulled back, gazing down at Hermione shyly as she shifted her weight, leaning backward into the piano to put a bit of distance between them.

"I... apologize if I was too forward," Minerva murmured, her cheeks flushing attractively as her hands tugged her shirt back down and into place.

Hermione's eyebrows rose up toward her hairline and she swallowed a laugh of disbelief at realizing the witch was entirely serious.

Taking a deep breath she decided to go for a lopsided smile.

"Minerva... you are free to charge ahead at whatever speed you'd like," she replied softly, capturing one cool hand and threading her fingers between it gently. Hermione lifted it to her lips and kissed the knuckles gently, hoping to dispel whatever insecurity was making Minerva feel embarrassed.

"Hermione..."

Minerva withdrew her hand from Hermione's grasp and stepped backward slightly, putting a bit of space between them as she smoothed a hand over her hair, which... was admittedly mussed in an unbecoming way that Hermione found rather irresistible.

"I dinnae want to move too fast..." Dark green eyes looked at her with thinly veiled apprehension and Minerva's hands twisted together. "I... have nae been wi' someone for a long time..."

Hermione took a breath and willed her features to match the love she felt for the beautiful woman standing in front of her. To think that the great Minerva McGonagall was afraid of intimacy...

Hermione could only feel incredibly privileged to bear witness to such a vulnerable moment.

"Minerva," she began quietly. "I am happy to move at whatever speed you desire... and know that you have me entirely... whenever you so wish."

High cheekbones darkened as Hermione's soft statement registered and Minerva bit her lip as her gaze faltered, apparently holding some sort of inner quarrel with herself over to how to proceed.

Worried that perhaps the witch was going to overthink things, Hermione swept forward... drawing the woman into another kiss that soon had Minerva responding - the warm lips parting and allowing her entrance even as Hermione's tongue teased one last intricate dance from the beautifully responsive body beneath her.

They parted when the need for air became too great and Hermione drew close, threading her hand into Minerva's ebony mane one last time.

"Goodnight, Minerva," she whispered softly.

With a final smile at the slightly bewildered witch before her, Hermione gracefully slipped away and began making her way downstairs, determined to give Minerva the space she needed to recover and think things through. Her lips were still tingling pleasantly as she moved... and her heart was still full with the miraculous knowledge that her love was returned.

 _Merlin's beard... what a night..._

Shaking her head in delighted disbelief, Hermione ghosted along the darkened hallway back to her room, a ridiculous smile plastered across her features... already missing the feel of Minerva's heat... her body... her delicious scent and husky voice.

As she began her nightly ablutions, Hermione ignored her impulse to listen for any movements overhead. Minerva would respond when she was ready and not one moment before.

 _Advance and retreat. Advance... and retreat._

Yes, Minerva was predictable in her insecurities...

But Hermione was determined.

And by her reasoning, there were still seven more days of their vacation ahead.

As she slipped beneath the cool sheets, Hermione shivered... her thoughts projecting ahead to a time when perhaps her flushed body would be greeted by another.

The image made her smile and Hermione's eyelids quickly grew heavy, a sleepy sigh falling upon the still night air in a quiet exhale of breath.

 _You can't hold out forever, my love._

* * *

 _A/N: Still not over, though we are drawing toward a close. Thanks always for reading!_

 _The piece mentioned is Étude No. 3. in D-flat Major, Un Sospiro_ by Franz Liszt


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Patience... ;)_

* * *

Minerva awoke to a light glow bathing the high ceiling above her in shades of rose.

She blinked several times, shifting to look around the unfamiliar space with a start before recalling where she was.

 _Hermione._

Unbidden, a smile slowly spread itself across her features and Minerva stretched, feeling deliciously rested and more peaceful than she had felt in years. Her nose picked up a subtle blend of cotton, pine, fresh flowers, and fresh bread and briefly she recalled the previous day and how her enterprising witch had spirited them away to this heavenly new location.

 _Your witch…_

Green eyes flew open and Minerva gasped as more memories began filtering through the sleepy haze of the early morning. Her fingers drifted upward to brush across her lips as her mind suddenly recalled the echoes of Hermione's kiss. _Merlin… was that even real?_

More flashes… walking along a darkened beach, the air heavy with emotion and the warm briny scent of salt. Deep caramel eyes watching her intently. The weight of her own feelings… and then… their release.

Adrenaline surged through her for a moment and Minerva twisted beneath the white sheets in panic before recalling how the night had concluded.

There had been that terrible moment when Hermione had splinched herself. The image of deep crimson blood spreading across her fingers flitted into view… her shaking hands washing it away carefully. The golden square light ahead of her as she had been coaxed from the darkened hallway… returning the third floor sitting area to find the witch seated at the piano, wreathed in candlelight… with a rapturous look upon her face that Minerva had never before witnessed.

What had begun as a simple request on her part - a spontaneous desire arising out of the exquisite rendition of one of her favorite pieces by Liszt, had quickly evolved into a moment that Minerva realized remained quite unparalleled by anything she had ever experienced before.

The woman had looked so warm and inviting - her arms rippling across the piano keys, body swaying with feeling, and her expression so earnest and passionate that Minerva hadn't been able to help herself. Her fingers had risen of their own accord to release the soft mane of curls - giving in to her desire to run her fingers through them, and Hermione had leaned into her touch… responding so honestly even as she played that Minerva had felt a wave of desire wash through her, at once needing to feel more of Hermione against her in a way that had shocked her.

Her lashes fluttered and Minerva felt her body grow warm as she remembered the first few tantalizing moments of discovering Hermione's sweet mouth.

Those tentative silken touches had been heaven… and then Hermione had taken her someplace completely new.

 _It **was** real..._

Chuckling softly, Minerva sat up slowly in disbelief, brushing her hair from her face as she waved open the gauzy curtains with a motion of her hand. Willing her heartbeat to slow down from its suddenly rapid dance, she took a deep breath. The sky was beginning to shift from shades of lavender and rose into a cool blue, promising yet another beautifully clear day.

Rising gently, Minerva padded over to the french doors and opened them - noting the warm temperature and the sweet scent of flowers upon the still air. A spray of feathery clouds crossed the sky high above, but beyond the exchange of birdsong, the world seemed content to remain in utter stillness.

Wetting her lips, she stepped outside, feeling the air press in against her like a tangible substance. The tiles were warm beneath her feet and Minerva resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose.

 _Another unbearably warm day ahead, it seems…_

Inhaling deeply, Minerva stretched, relishing the pull along the muscles of her back as she lifted her arms over her head, her simple cotton nightgown lifting slightly and brushing against her thighs.

She exhaled with a sigh, releasing her arms and smiling softly, still in disbelief that her world had changed so much in a matter of hours.

 _Hermione…_

Who could have predicted that the young woman would step into her life and turn it upside down by her mere presence?

Turning back to her rooms, Minerva suddenly wondered if the witch was awake… already itching to see her, wondering how they would move forward now that both of their feelings were out in the open.

Crossing the bedroom quietly, she listened but didn't detect any sounds coming from below. Accio-ing her wand from the bedside table, Minerva cast a quick tempus. _6:24._

That didn't necessarily mean that Hermione wasn't awake. _Perhaps she's reading downstairs in the kitchen…_

Smiling softly, Minerva stepped into the bath, determined to make herself presentable before going in search of the woman who had ignited her passion so quickly the night before.

In a short matter of minutes Minerva was standing beneath the warm spray of water, hands running conditioner through her hair and combing through the tangles with practiced ease. The ends fell almost past her buttocks when wet and the entire length seemed far more unruly and unmanageable than she desired… especially considering how fervently Hermione seemed to enjoy running her hands through it.

The thought brought a slight blush to her cheeks.

 _Now who needs a haircut?_

Sniffing lightly, Minerva continued her ministrations quietly, letting her mind drift to the end of the evening and how quickly her body had run away from her.

 _Merlin, perhaps you're moving too fast… Hermione is still so young…_

With a flush, she recalled the witch's bold statement just before they had gone their separate ways… _"know that you have me entirely… whenever you so wish…"_

Shutting off the water, Minerva squeezed the excess moisture out of her hair absently as she considered the weight of those words. Part of her was still entirely amazed that Hermione found her desirable at all… and that the young woman clearly felt open to… er… consummating their relationship without any cause for hesitation.

Minerva waved two towels to wrap themselves around her quickly, still deep in thought as she returned to the bedroom and began preparing for the day.

It wasn't until she began spreading lotion across her damp skin that Minerva began to feel the first twinges of insecurity thread through her mind. She wasn't exactly _young_ , no matter what kind words Hermione had impressed upon her the night before. Though the witch had seen her let her hair down so to speak, in the last several days, it was completely different to be seen in casual attire and to be seen… _n_ _aked._

Minerva returned to the bathroom and pressed herself closer to the antique mirror above the sink, raking her eyes across her reflection with a dispassionate gaze. While she did not consider herself vain to the standards of others, Minerva knew that in the privacy of her own bath, she was highly critical.

She had always maintained excellent care of her body - her skin in particular, but no one was immune to the effects of time, and the smattering of lines across her forehead, around the corners of her eyes, and surrounding her lips was evidence to that eternal constant. Long hands quietly worked lotion into the soft skin of her face and neck, testing quality and tone as they went.

While everything was as usual… Minerva couldn't help but feel that perhaps she was a bit _lacking_. Others had always commented upon her high cheekbones and "bedroom eyes," as one poetic lover had once said. She knew that Hermione found her attractive, but to her own gaze, Minerva had a hard time finding the appeal.

She looked plain. Severe, maybe. The line of her jaw was curved enough, but Minerva had always felt it appeared too masculine.

Her green eyes were bright and framed by dark lashes, but against her black hair and pale skin she had always worried she appeared too otherworldly or witch-like… in the Muggle sense.

Sighing, Minerva murmured a quiet drying charm and let her hair fold into the gentle waves it held when naturally unbound, before unwrapping her towel and surveying her nude body carefully.

Long fingers spidered across the scars nestled between her breasts, before drifting down to trace an uglier slash along the side of her left ribs that she had earned during the first War. Twisting, she could see another silvery starburst along her right shoulder-blade, though that one had healed properly and Minerva rather liked it.

 _Hermione has her own scars just as you do… if you can look past them on her, she can certainly look past them on you..._

Minerva bit her lip and ran her hands across her stomach and over her breasts experimentally.

Her body type had always been rail-thin, though unlike Hermione, it was much harder for her to build muscle. She had kept herself in reasonable shape through the last several years, though the outline of her abdominals was much softer than she liked and gravity had begun to take its toll on her breasts which had always been disproportionately full in comparison to the rest of her relatively lithe frame.

Biting a lip, Minerva turned away from the mirror, at once uneasy and slightly apprehensive about what the coming days would bring.

 _There is only one more week before you must return to Hogwarts… surely you wish to deepen your relationship with Hermione?_

 _However you also accepted her as your Apprentice, which leaves plenty of time ahead for **those** discoveries…_

 _What if she rejects you and no longer wishes to pursue a Mastery?_

 _Worse, what if she rejects you and still wishes to continue with her Apprenticeship?_

Her thoughts continued in useless circles as Minerva dressed, summoning one of her usual oxford shirts and electing to transfigure it into a white dress similar to the one she had worn the day previous. She made a few alterations to lighten the weight of the fabric, adjusting the style so that the dress wrapped across her torso rather than buttoning up. The style set off her figure rather nicely and provided an open neckline that would be significantly more cool for the hot day ahead.

Sighing, Minerva waved her wand and tidied the bathroom before stepping back into the bedroom… and stopping abruptly.

A small spray of flowers was nestled against her pillow - roses of pale pink, apricot, yellow, and ivory.

Moving as if in a trance, Minerva crossed over to her bed and plucked them up carefully… noting how the thorns had been removed and the fragrant bundle wrapped in a single emerald ribbon.

She brought them up to her nose and inhaled deeply, absorbing the sweet scent fervently even as her eyes fluttered shut.

A moment later, Minerva smiled.

* * *

The sound of birdsong floated in from the open window and Hermione couldn't help the faint echoes of a smile that hovered about her lips as she went about preparing breakfast and lunch.

The heat had woken her rather early and despite a gentle headache that had lingered around her temples like a vice, she had risen well before the sun, showered, and begun attending to the day. Thoughts from the night prior continued floating through her mind like an insistent melody and after a peaceful cup of tea at the kitchen table, she had elected to step out of the flat and chance an early morning run to the boulangerie just down the lane.

Upon returning, the sound of running water had alerted her to the fact that Minerva was awake and it has proved the perfect opportunity to slip upstairs and deliver the small bouquet of flowers that she had glimpsed on her way back home.

The sight of the unmade bed and the witch's clothes tossed carelessly over one chair had been undeniably intimate and Hermione had lingered in the empty room for a moment, absorbing the small details that provided evidence that the night before hadn't been a dream…

Sighing happily, Hermione tossed a curl out of one eye as her fingers deftly mixed fresh blackberries and sugar.

 _You are being a ridiculous sap…_

Still, she allowed herself a broad smile as she hummed quietly, whipping together her ingredients as the record player in the other room began to swell with the triumphant waves of Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto No. 2. The dreamy notes of the second movement began mixing with the sounds of the waking town floating through open windows and Hermione sighed again, inhaling the fresh scents of fruit and sugar alongside the more subtle blend of pine, fresh bread, and clean cotton.

For a brief moment, she realized that she was absolutely content. The coming day promised to be beautiful, if a tinge too warm for her liking, she had already prepared _pan bagnats_ for later if they decided to venture to the sea, but mostly… Hermione realized how grateful she was to share such a beautiful vacation with Minerva and to have pressed forward into a new phase in their relationship that promised nothing but joyful challenge.

Rachmaninoff's crescendos began to grow in the background and Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and allowed herself a dreamy spin, still holding a glass bowl in one arm as her expression settled into something that she knew must look incredibly blissful.

"Well… it certainly appears to be a good morning," a familiar voice said softly.

Hermione's eyes flew open and she could already hear the hint of a smile as she spun in place, nearly sending blackberry juice flying as she turned to find Minerva leaning against the threshold from the back staircase, arms crossed casually, and dark hair spilling over narrow shoulders.

"Indeed," she managed, unable to prevent the happy grin from spilling over her features. Minerva stepped forward slowly, green eyes seemingly content and Hermione quickly divested herself of her bowl and apron as she moved to intercept the woman on her way to the table.

Before the witch could sit, she pressed into Minerva's space… threading a hand beneath silky black waves to draw rosy lips downward to her own.

The lithe body before her stiffened for a moment and then abruptly relaxed as Minerva allowed herself to be drawn into the kiss. A moment later, Hermione was delighted to feel a curious tongue flutter gently against her lips, seeking entrance, which she was only too happy to oblige.

The taste of Minerva exploded on her tongue, silken and intoxicating.

The witch's mouth was full of warm, wet heat… fluid and titillating, eliciting a wave of tingling warmth through her body that had nothing to do with the summer temperature.

Hermione's other hand rose to trail down the sinfully soft length of elegant neck lightly, trailing across delicate collarbones, before suddenly being stopped by a firm hand.

"Hermione!"

Her name was released in a startled gasp as Minerva stepped back, a glazed look crossing the clear emerald eyes that suddenly made Hermione's heart beat a little faster.

She untangled her hand from Minerva's mane of hair and smiled softly, pressing a kiss to the long fingers that had stopped her wayward journey toward the neckline of the flattering white dress that the witch was wearing.

" _Now_ it's a good morning," Hermione murmured softly, giving Minerva a fond little smile before turning away. She heard the witch clear her throat.

"I daresay that's one of the of the more _unique_ greetings I've received in a while…"

Hermione turned over her shoulder to find Minerva sitting at the kitchen table with a distant smile upon her face as she gazed out the window, both hands pressed against the roughened wood as if attempting to steady herself.

"Well, I should hope it isn't an everyday occurrence for you," she replied gently, even as cautious eyes flicked up to meet hers. "I would admittedly be quite jealous if Filius or Pomona greeted you thusly every morning."

Ivory cheeks flushed as Hermione chortled, turning back to the stove and beginning her breakfast preparations in earnest.

For a moment the kitchen was silent save for the echoes of recorded applause as the piano concerto concluded and the sound of batter bubbling softly.

"Do you need assistance?"

Hermione smiled even as she flipped a pancake with practiced ease. _Now **this** is a summer meal._

"Not at the moment. Would you like to eat here or upstairs?"

She turned again to see Minerva watching her with a curious expression that abruptly dissolved into a pensive one. The witch tilted her head slightly.

"Upstairs perhaps... unless you would be more comfortable inside," Minerva replied, half-asking the reply. Hermione was still unused to this timid side of the woman and it seemed that in some respects, Minerva was most definitely waiting for her to take the lead.

"We might as well eat outside… it would be nice to enjoy the morning before the sun rises in earnest," Hermione said, flipping another pancake. "Depending on what you'd like to do today I would either suggest staying indoors to avoid the heat or taking another trip to the sea where there'll be a bit more of a breeze."

Trickling threads of another piano concerto wound their way between the sizzle from the stove and the murmur of outdoor sounds as Minerva fell silent. Hermione continued tending to their breakfast as she stirred the blackberry compote, not wanting to pressure the woman into doing anything that she didn't desire. _Don't forget that you brought her here to relax..._

As the silence continued, Hermione turned to find Minerva gazing out the window with a lost expression on her face.

 _Advance and retreat…_

Turning off the stove, Hermione cast a stasis charm over the plate of pancakes and poured the compote into a small ceramic pitcher. A few more carefully focused flicks banished the needed materials to the table on Minerva's terrace and she sent a number of smaller items there as well in case the witch desired something different.

Satisfied that breakfast would unfold to her liking, Hermione turned and quickly strode across the kitchen to stand behind Minerva's chair.

The witch had started slightly upon seeing her move and Hermione pressed her hands down upon narrow shoulders and bent forward to press a kiss against silky black locks. Her hands ghosted along long ivory arms for a moment, waiting until she felt Minerva relax slightly into her touch.

"There is no right or wrong answer to anything, Minerva," Hermione whispered, leaning in a bit further to press her lips against the soft shell of one ear. She felt the witch shiver beneath her.

"All I want is for you to relax… and the rest of the vacation is for us to enjoy. There is no pressure to do anything… either here in Saint Paul or with me specifically. I'm not going to go anywhere unless you tell me."

Another long moment passed before elegant hands rose to grasp her own and Hermione smiled as Minerva tilted her head back to look up at her carefully, a myriad of emotions crossing the emerald pools.

"I'm sorry, Hermione…" the witch sighed softly. "I s'pose I still need a bit o' time…"

"We have time, Minerva."

The beautiful eyes closed and Hermione stood up slightly as the witch sighed, shaking her head even as she turned sideways upon the chair to look over her right shoulder. Rosy lips curved upward into an apologetic smile and Hermione felt her heart melt.

"Come. Let us eat breakfast… and afterward I can remind you of all the reasons - logical and illogical as to why pursuing a relationship with me is the most brilliant option available to you," she said quietly, fixing Minerva with a lopsided smile.

Emerald eyes fluttered for a moment and Minerva lifted a long hand to cup her cheek gently, skimming down her neck to rest at the indention between her collarbones.

"The most brilliant and _only_ option," Minerva whispered softly, rising suddenly to press a chaste kiss against her lips.

Hermione grinned in response, chuckling softly even as her hands skimmed down soft ivory skin until she found the witch's hands. Tugging gently, she pulled Minerva toward the back stairs even as one hand found her wand and managed to flick off the record player in the other room.

"Enough distractions for the moment," she murmured teasingly. She threaded her fingers through Minerva's own as they began to ascend the steps slowly, passing through warm beams of sunshine even as Hermione knew they wore matching smiles that would have undoubtedly made the other witch blush if she realized.

"Our breakfast awaits."


End file.
